LE: Metamorphosis
by tHeEviLjOkEr
Summary: "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," right? Yoruka Chizuki, a 13-year-old Karakura resident meets a shinigami and barely survives the encounter. The next thing she knows, she's caught up in a plot thicker than blood. A war is on the horizon, she's about to become a key player, and she's not going to like it. Warnings inside. (FYI: This is a rewrite of the previous LE)
1. I: Silver End

**So, this is a revised version of the first chapter of LE. For those who have read this before, it's now set in third-person POV, and (hopefully) the writing has been improved because I read what I wrote so long ago and couldn't help but feel the need to rewrite it. My thanks to whoever is (still) reading this, as tbh, this is a rather self-indulgent fic that I came up with because Gin's ending was just tragic and because he's my favourite character.**

 **Warnings: Maybe-semi-SI (I'm not sure), OCs, anime-typical violence, AU-ish, and time is a funny thing (details found before the chapters affected). Also, I first wrote this before I read the Fullbringer's arc and will continue with the ideas I have then. 'New' canon information that contradicts my theories of how things work will likely be ignored.**

 **That said, I hope you'll enjoy reading this.**

 **Disclaimer (to be applied for the whole fic): I only own my characters and my interpretation of the story. Everything else ain't mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter One: Silver End**

* * *

" _A soothsayer bids thee, 'Beware the ides of March.'" ~ Shakespeare, Julius Caesar_

* * *

It was the start of an unremarkable holiday. Or it would have been if not for the fact that she jinxed it by complaining to her friends that she was bored.

Because that's how most stories begin, right? They say nothing ever happens to them, disregarding the fact that sometimes, things have already happened to them. Like they're tempting Fate. As if they're complaining that they don't already have enough drama in their lives.

And that's how it starts:

Two days into the holidays. Three pieces of homework completed in record time. Sixty-odd days more of boredom.

That wasn't the plan, of course. The plan was to finish her homework early and have all the time in the world to have _fun_. She forgot that her friends weren't going to be in town for another week or two. She forgot that she had read all the books on her shelf at least five times over and forgot that all the fantasy-genre books in the library had been read at least once. There was no TV to watch—she couldn't afford one, and there was nothing interesting in the cinema (singular—Karakura was a small town).

That proverb— _be careful of what you wish for_ —it was something Yoruka Chizuki would only understand four to five years later.

Now let us set the scene:

A silver crescent hanging low in the midnight-blue sky like an icy scythe ready to descend onto an unlucky passer-by. A loud crash in a kitchen.

But it was not just any kitchen. It was Chizuki's kitchen.

Now, said girl was just attempting to see if she how many books she could balance on her head when it happened. For a moment, she wondered if her parents had come back to life and was now pouring out their wrath over what they would have deemed as an 'untidy' home. They were neat-freaks after all and Chizuki… well, she wasn't the neatest person around.

Quickly enough, she dismissed the thought. Of course, the dead do not come back to life. Their souls sometimes do linger around the living world, but souls shouldn't be able to create much chaos, being mostly translucent colour and mist.

So, a burglar?

There were indeed burglars in the apartment. Six hulking mask-wearing Halloween-themed burglars. Chizuki took one staggering step into the kitchen, processed the scene of her kitchen being destroyed by strange creatures that looked like they came straight out of a Ghibli-horror-hybrid film—complete with the almost tangible terrifying aura of dead things clawing out of a bloody bottomless pit—and did the smart thing: she fled as fast as her shaking legs could carry her.

Chizuki was one of those special humans who could see spirits, and had seen her fair share ghosts, but she had never seen these monsters before. They were three times as tall as her and four times as wide. But the most important thing was that they had noticed her presence.

In the whole second that she had stood there at the threshold of her kitchen, brain tripping over itself in its hurry to process the mad nightmare before her, they turned as one to look at her. Luckily for Chizuki, it was then that she saw the glowing eyes and large horns of one of the creatures and thought: Balrog. This was immediately followed by a very useful piece of advice: _Fly, you fool!_

She hightailed out of the apartment and leapt over the parapet of the corridor. It was only three floors to the ground and Chizuki had picked up parkour—or something like it—during the time when she and her friends had learned how to get away from pissed-off delinquents.

But of course, three floors were no deterrent to creatures as three times her size. And one of them even had wings. The ensuing events were predictable: one puny human girl against six gigantic yokai?

It was by pure good fortune that Chizuki did not perish in the spot. It was also by some misfortune that right after she was thrown several metres away by a single whack of a creature's lizard-like tail, she realised—after recovering from the nausea and headache the impact had brought her—that there was a seemingly dead body a distance away from herself. There was an alarming pool of blood spreading from under the body's head, and the body was unmistakably hers—it had her short black hair and glassy violet eyes stared out of her pale face.

Chizuki shuddered. Staring at one's own corpse was not fun. She looked down at her (spirit) self instead, because it was sometimes better to have a distraction when faced with one's own dead body. Like the suspicious chain that was attached to the middle of her chest, right over where her heart might be.

The chain was long and glowed faintly. It hung from her chest to the asphalt and stretched all the way to her unmoving body. She didn't need to be a genius to figure out the purpose of the chain. She also quickly decided to ignore her own morbid curiosity about what might happen if the chain were to break. She had other things to worry about first.

While Chizuki was taking in her newly undead(?) status, two of the creatures appeared to have left the group and gone elsewhere to stir more trouble, and the remaining four were watching her curiously, the way a group of cats might regard a mouse.

Slowly, one of them—the nearest one, that looked like a white-helmeted winged dog—raised a gigantic paw. Chizuki quickly scrambled to her feet, tripped over her own spirit-chain-thing and saw the paw descended onto her in a clear attempt to swipe at her.

She screamed.

It was by choice, she would admit to herself later, after she got over the embarrassment of behaving like a typical damsel in distress, something she had sworn she would never do. But she had also been quick enough to realise that sometimes, calling for help was the smart thing to do.

So, she screamed... though it was more like a high-pitched screeching.

Later, she would recall the events as a blur. Like a video fast-forwarded three times. There were, however, a few things she remembered with the perfect clarity that trauma and adrenaline sometimes provided.

First, a saviour and his dramatic entrance.

He was a strange man dressed in stranger clothes. He had pale hair that looked silver under the moonlight, a pale pointed face with narrow slits for eyes and a smile that seemed to split his face, reminding Chizuki of the traditional depictions of foxes, minus the facial markings. As for his outfit, wore a set of black kimono robes that billowed in the wind that seemed to have been caused by his own arrival. He also carried with him a short sword that had apparently just cut the dog-like monster in half but she couldn't be sure her eyes weren't deceiving her because _woah that was fast? And hell, that was cool?_

Second, a horrifying revelation, straight out from a thriller show.

Out of the three remaining creatures, one of them had a white scorpion-like tail complete with stinger. The strange newcomer easily sliced off one of its gigantic pincers—later, Chizuki would realise that the sword had actually shot off the pincer and no, she hadn't been hallucinating a sword with a blade that could shoot out like that—but he when the stinging tail came shooting towards him, one moment he was beside the scorpion-monster, the next moment he was a few metres away, his sword raised, effectively blocking the really long tail.

Two things happened then, and Chizuki wasn't sure which happened in what order. Nevertheless, there was a moment when she realised that the white armour of the creatures could block a sword blade—when the pincer had been sliced off, it had been at the joints, where it had an 'Achilles' elbow of sorts. And there was also a moment when she saw, with growing horror, that the scorpion-thing was raising a _second_ tail.

Third, another realisation, found out the hard way.

Things were blurry between seeing the second tail and... the spray of blood. Chizuki spent half a heart-stopping second worrying about the stranger who had saved her from getting mauled. But in the next half of a second, she realised that _something_ had changed without her noticing.

The clues: the scorpion-thing was right in front of her, the stranger was nowhere to be seen, there was blood pouring out of the gaping wound on her chest where there were only a few broken links left of the chain, and she could practically feel the presence of someone close behind her like a heater.

The conclusion she did not immediately arrive at: something had changed, and that something was her. Or, to be more precise, the position of her spirit-self.

Perhaps is was the loss of blood that slowed down her thinking. Perhaps it was just denial, some part of her convinced she was dreaming. Or perhaps it was just plain fright. Either way, it took Chizuki a while to comprehend what she was witnessing, even with the very real and bitter coppery scent of blood that had her involuntarily wrinkling her nose. It took her so long to piece together the different things she was noticing into one complete puzzle that by the time she was done, the stranger had successfully killed the scorpion-like monster and was now in front of her, looking like he didn't know what to do next.

Chizuki laughed (and regretted it when she tasted the blood that coated her throat and filled her mouth). It was funny how different the man looked from the first time she saw him. He was still wearing that face-splitting grin as if it were a permanent fixture on his face, but the confidence he held in his shoulders and stance was gone, and the fumbling concern he currently seemed to be struggling with was at odds with his face.

She laughed again, because she felt light. Like she was floating, and she didn't feel any of the pain she thought she would with the bleeding gash on her chest. Instead, there was only a strange numbness that was spreading from the wound, and the feeling of heavy water sloshing about in her head. She tipped, and a pair of arms caught her.

The first thing she thought, when she realised the stranger was gently laying her on the ground, was that she must be getting a lot of blood on his robes. The next thing she thought was that it was a good thing that the stranger was mostly wearing black, aside from his white haori.

Chizuki tried to turn to see the stranger's face but found that her body was no longer responding to her commands. Instead, she could only stare ahead and watch as the last creature flee the scene.

When the stranger had set her down and finally came into view, she spent a whole second trying to figure out what was wrong with his face because he was still grinning. Then she realised that he wasn't grinning and that the corners of his mouth were actually slightly turned down—she would only marvel about this much later—and that his face was actually upside-down.

"Stay here," the stranger said. "I'll be back soon."

Chizuki barely managed a nod. She did manage a wobbly smile, or what she thought felt like a smile. She didn't mind the fact she was going to be left there. She was still feeling blissfully numb, and somewhat drunk, and was probably not in the right state of mind to... mind anything really. And even if she were, she would have sent him on if she could. There were other people that would need his help—the monster probably wasn't going to stop terrorising people just because he gave it a fright. And he said he would be back. At this point, she wouldn't be surprised if he had mystical healing powers or something.

Sometime after the stranger had left in a flicker of black—like the flutter of a butterfly's wing—Chizuki began to grow alarmed.

The adrenaline (because, she quickly realised, spirits appeared to have the spirit-equivalent of a human body complete with heart and brains and everything else) was wearing out at last, and with nothing she was capable of doing, nothing to keep track of time with aside from the position of the moon in the sky, it seemed like hours had passed.

Chizuki could feel the wet sticky feeling of blood spreading through her clothes. She could feel the beginnings of an ache in her chest where the wound was. She could feel herself getting tired, her vision dimming around the edges, and she began to wonder when the stranger would return.

She wasn't sure if she could stay awake until he did. She wasn't sure if she would wake up again if she fell asleep now. She even began to doubt if she could be fixed. If her wound could be healed, if the chain could be renewed and if she could return to what must be a dying if not already dead body.

Doubts began to gnaw at her thoughts while pain gnawed at her chest.

The creatures returned. She recognised them as the two that had left the group first. Panic fluttered for a short moment in her chest before it died as quickly as it was born. It was instead, replaced by a combination of despair and acceptance.

As Chizuki stared at the creatures loping towards her, black fuzzy mould-like spots growing in her vision, she had three thoughts: First: _I am going to die_. Second: _Perhaps I'll die before the pain gets worse._ And third:

 _He isn't back yet._

* * *

 **So, how was it? Reviews and PMs are always welcome.**


	2. II: Fast Forward

**Chapter two rewritten is up! I took some liberties with Bleach-canon and my only research is from reading the manga and perusing the wiki, so if you think something's not quite right, feel free to bring it up, but it may or may not be on purpose.**

 **Warnings: Maybe-semi-SI (I'm not sure), OCs, anime-typical violence, AU-ish, and time is a funny thing (details found before the chapters affected). Also, I first wrote this before I read the Fullbringer's arc and will continue with the ideas I have then. 'New' canon information that contradicts my theories of how things work will likely be ignored.**

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Fast Forward**

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" _It would be interesting to find out what goes on in the moment when someone looks at you and draws all sorts of conclusions."_

* * *

The desert was vast and empty, white sand stretching for as far and wide as the eye could see, a stark contrast to the pitch black night sky. A cold wind swept up sand dunes as it blew soundlessly across the eerie wasteland. The only other features in this monochrome world were sparse dark grey clouds, a few skeletal trees and a single bright orb in the sky that shone like a silver eye. Far in the distance were a set of buildings—a dome and a few towers—peaking out from over the sandy horizon.

"It's just you?"

The creature halted its curious survey of the landscape and turned its head upon hearing what sounded like an insult. Behind it stood another Hollow, a male, but this one looked more human than any Vasto Lorde it had ever seen. His reiatsu was strong, constantly brushing against its senses before retreating again, like a large cat.

The other Hollow has striking blue hair, green feline eye-markings and the remnants of a hollow mask covering his right cheek. Nothing very intimidating, the creature noted. The Hollow's muscles, while clearly defined and was probably considered impressive by human standards, were practically lean and wiry compared to some of the hulking Hollows it had seen before.

Still, he had the nerve to say 'just you', as if it were nothing to him. So it decided to reserve its judgement for later because it knew that often times, appearances could be deceiving.

"Who—" it began, then realised that asking the Hollow for its name would be rather rude before introducing itself first. Except that was around the time when it realised it couldn't remember its own name. It couldn't really remember anything concrete, really, not its name, not where it came from, where it currently was or what actually happened prior to its waking up.

"Where am I?" it asked instead, turning its head once more to survey the desert wasteland. The humanoid Hollow stared back at it with an incredulous scowl.

"The fuck? You don't even know—? How badly did you hit your head?"

The creature—a Hollow itself—automatically patted its own head and winced immediately as a sharp pain tore through its skull.

"Ow?"

"Ow...?" the humanoid Hollow repeated before coughing out a dry laugh. "Have you _seen_ yourself?"

The creature blinked away stars and surveyed itself for the first time. 'Ow' would have been an understatement—there were long cracks and tears in the armour it had left, most of its body was exposed, bloody and burnt. It was only then that the creature realised its body hurt, the pain returning to the forefront of its mind from whatever dark cave it had previously been thrown into.

For a moment, the creature blacked out. It felt like only a moment, just a second or two, but when it opened its eyes again, it realised it was being carried by the other Hollow, its body slung over the other's shoulder, pain crackling through every nerve with every _sonido_ -enhanced stride it took.

The creature bit back a curse, and was sorely tempted to kick the Hollow hard in its stomach. But it had a feeling that in its current state, the Hollow could probably turn it into a bloody smear before it could even scream. So the creature simply tried to get its head to stop spinning enough to get some answers to the many questions it had.

"Something's wrong," it finally choked out. The blue-haired Hollow stopped mid-stride, then resumed his pace.

"You're freakin' slow," he said.

But the creature hadn't been referring to its missing memories or the state its body was in. Something else was wrong, and it couldn't figure out what it was. By the time the creature realised one of the things it felt was wrong—the moon was round, when it was sure for some absurd reason that it was supposed to be a crescent—the human-looking Hollow was passing it to another human-looking Hollow.

"Found it where that blast came from," said the blue-haired one. "Thought our _esteemed_ leader might be interested in it."

"You call this recruitment, Jaegerjaquez? Bringing a half-dead Adjuchas back ain't it, you know."

"Adjuchas? This thing here killed a Vasto Lorde. If it isn't a Vasto Lorde itself, Aizen can go—" Here, he gave the other Hollow a finger, then turned to leave.

"Oi! Jaegerjaquez! Come back here!"

When the Hollow showed no inclination to return, the second human-looking Hollow turned to scowl at the limp creature in its arms. Said creature simply stared back with mismatched eyes.

Later, the creature was once again passed on to another human-looking Hollow—there seemed to be quite a few here... wherever 'here' was.

"Was this an Adjuchas? It looks like something the cat brought in."

"Who do you think dropped this thing off?"

"... Oh. Can Aizen-sama turn a corpse into an Arrancar too?"

"It ain't dead yet, but to be honest, I think it'll just die during the process."

The fourth human-looking Hollow that the creature was passed to took one look at it and said, "I don't remember looking like _that_ when I was brought in."

The fifth human-looking spirit was definitely not a Hollow. The creature stared at the one the others called 'Aizen-sama' and wondered why the name sounded familiar.

"Do you have a name?" Aizen asked as he looked down at the creature lying on the stone slab before him. The creature certainly looked like an Adjuchas: it didn't seem as human as most Vasto Lordes were, looking more like a serpentine monster with small horns—it was hard to tell, considering how parts of its armour, including its helmet was already missing and there was only one wing left, but if his Arrancars could be believed, the reiatsu burst from earlier that day had been caused by a fight between this Hollow and a Vasto Lorde, which resulted in the latter's introduction to non-existence.

"No...? Aizen...sama?"

Aizen smirked to himself. He hadn't expected the Hollow to be able to answer him, considering the state it was in, but it was evidently still had the mental capacity for speech and learning. His Hōgyoku still had room for improvement, but he could predict that this Hollow would be good for Shinigamification.

The process was not always a success, as the Hōgyoku was still incomplete and the rate of success increased with the evolutionary state of the Hollow prior to the process. This was why, aside from a desire to have stronger soldiers, Aizen preferred transforming Vasto Lordes.

But Vasto Lorde or not, this Hollow was a survivor.

Most Hollows had a name they gave themselves upon gaining independent thought, but this one was nameless. There was something about giving another a name that Aizen found empowering. He took one look at the creature's bloodied body, and named the creature 'Sangre'.

"Sangre," tried the creature. "What does it mean?"

"Blood," said Aizen. "It will be your ink, and the world your canvas."

The creature did not know why, but the name, or rather, the meaning of the name, brought forth a thrum of recognition within itself. So it tried to nod, failed, then settled for giving the man a slow blink of acceptance.

"I like it," it said, and Aizen smirked once more.

* * *

While the creature slept, it dreamed. As its body healed and transformed itself, its mind was also hard at work, stitching together splinters of thought and memory.

* * *

 _The Hollow stares down at its first prey from behind its mask. It knows the human soul cannot see its expression, and it was glad. Masks were safe. Masks hid faces, things better left unknown._

 _The soul struggled, but with the Hollow's large claw pinning her down, she could not move much. The soul was terrified. The Hollow could taste her fear like sickly sweet sap dripping down its throat. And the Hollow did not like it._

 _It was hungry. It was always hungry. The other Hollows speak of a land where hunger decreases and Hollows roam freely without fear of the Shinigami. But it was also said that one had to learn how to get there by themselves._

 _Food. The human soul was food, but the Hollow did not want to eat it. She looked strange—all the humans did—too small and squishy with feeble limbs. How could this be food? Things like that, like human souls, should be kept safe, like pets perhaps, not eaten._

 _The Hollow regards its first prey once more, and slowly, lifted its claw. The human soul fled immediately, tripping over herself in her hurry to get away. It was interesting to watch._

* * *

 _Hollows were human souls once upon a time, the Hollow learned one day, as it watched a soul become a Hollow, watched his heart carve a hole in his chest and transform into a mask upon his face._

 _But the Hollow did not remember being human. It could not remember where it came from, nor who it was before. An older Hollow told it that this was normal, told it that those memories would become a weakness, and it would be better to forget._

 _The mask is a shield formed from the heart, and memories a weakness._

 _The Hollow ripped off its own mask, stared at its own face in a puddle of water, and for a moment, it remembered. For just a moment, before the mask reformed itself and the next meal became the most important priority in its mind once more._

* * *

 _The type of spirit did not matter, the Hollow had found out with glee. Human or not, a spirit was food, and Hollows were so much more fun to prey upon. They were a challenge, and the Hollow enjoyed the hunt._

 _Cannibalism, its mind supplied one day. Cannibalism is wrong. The Hollow did not know how it came to know this word, or what it meant, but it did not care. Right or wrong, who was going to judge? All that mattered was how the Hollow felt about the matter. And at that moment? Cannibalism felt better than preying on pathetic human souls._

* * *

 _The Hollow was once preyed upon, and in its hurry to escape from the other Hollow before it got injured further, it slipped through space and found itself in a white desert._

 _There, its hunger subsided, until it came back in full force when it used up its energy to heal itself. There, it found many other Hollows in a pit, clawing and biting at each other. There, the hungry Hollow saw the pit as a bowl of food, and dove right in._

* * *

 _The Hollow did not know how long it took—days perhaps, of devouring other stray Hollows that had the misfortune of wandering into their path, but in the end, it emerged victorious over the other Hollows. The other Hollows, they were like mindless sheep, their horns barely dangerous against a much larger creature with claws. Gaining control over them took time, but not too much time._

 _The Hollow, grinned to itself—combined with all the other Hollows, it was much bigger now, and it was ready for bigger prey. The next Gillian it saw, it ate._

* * *

 _Being in control felt good, fun, even. The Hollow, now an Adjuchas, took great pleasure in ordering Gillians around, sending them into battle against other Gillians. This annoyed many other Adjuchas, whose Gillian were usually about to be sent to the human world._

 _The Hollow thought that Gillians going against humans was just ridiculous. The humans wouldn't stand a chance, and there was no joy to be found in killing things that died from half a hit. The other Adjuchas did not agree._

 _And one day, the Hollow decided that the best way to solve the disagreement was to eat its opponent up._

* * *

 _The Hollow had few 'friends'—other Adjuchas it respected and tolerated—mostly because it was hard to find decent Hollows that were powerful enough to survive in their dog-eat-dog world._

 _Then one day, the Hollow returned from one of its hunting trips and the other Adjuchas were gone._

 _Days passed, and the Hollow grew steadily in power, got into more fights, and then, it bit off more than it could chew._

 _The Vasto Lorde was one that it's friends and itself found incredibly obnoxious. They vowed they'd teach it a lesson once they had all become Vasto Lordes themselves._

 _(The Hollow wasn't there when its fellow Adjuchas had found out that once bitten, an Adjucha had no chance of growing or evolving. It wasn't there when all but one of them gave up on being Vasto Lorde)._

 _Now, however, its friends were nowhere to be found, and it wondered if this Vasto Lorde had anything to do with it. So it stalked the Vasto Lorde from a safe distance, learned its habits, and when the Vasto Lorde was least expecting it, it rose from the sand it had been hiding beneath and attacked._

* * *

The newly-transformed Arrancar woke up with a start. Aside from her memories from her time as a Hollow, she had also regained her memories from her time as a human.

It probably said something when the first thing she thought about was the fact that two weeks of her school holidays had passed and she had spent most of it as a demon-like creature.

"That blasted Shinigami," Chizuki muttered to herself. Now she knew what that stranger was—a Shinigami, soul reaper, enemy of Hollows. And she was pretty sure his job had been to protect humans like her from Hollows. Not that she really blamed him for it, since it wasn't like he left her for no good reason and the only reason she had become a Hollow was probably because the other Adjuchas that came for her later...

(And wasn't that a strange thing? Adjuchas tend to be solitary creatures, with few decent ones that were capable of working as a pack. They also rarely left Hueco Mundo because at that level of evolution, human souls were no longer satisfactory meals... Though Chizuki noted that she could not recall if she heard the Hollows who attacked her that night speak at all.)

Chizuki surveyed the room she was in. It resembled a lab, which made her wonder what the process of becoming an Arrancar entailed. Natural Arrancars were evolved from higher-level Hollows whose masks had been torned off. However, natural Arrancars were known to be 'imperfect' compared to the Arrancars that Aizen created from Hollows.

When she looked down at herself, Chizuki realised with mild horror that she was dressed only in a thin layer of cloth that could possibly be called a gown, but she was otherwise not wearing anything. Then to her relief, she saw a stack of neatly folded clothes in the corner, and quickly hopped off the bed to check it out.

The clothes provided had a black and white theme, and Chizuki wondered if it were some sort of uniform, since every other Arrancar she remembered seeing on her way into this place had worn something similar. The outfit consisted of a white jacket with black inner-lining, a black shirt, white hakama with a black sash and black boots. There were also simple white underwear that she dearly hope Aizen himself had not had anything to do with.

While dressing herself, Chizuki noted that her Hollow hole hadn't shifted position, unlike some Arrancar. She recalled that the Arrancar named 'Jaegerjaquez' had a Hollow hole in his stomach region.

Hollow holes were one of the things that didn't make sense to her. There was definitely a missing space there, which was the likely cause for that strange emptiness that lurked at the back of her mind, an emptiness she tried not to think about too much.

When, out of morbid curiosity, she stuck her hand through her own Hollow hole, she felt nothing in response to the intrusion. Her hand made it through to the other side with no resistance. But when she placed her palm flat over her own chest and closed her eyes, she could still feel her own heartbeat even though her heart had supposedly turned into a Hollow mask...

And speaking of masks...

Chizuki reached up towards her face. It was entirely uncovered. Feeling further up, she was momentarily startled by the feeling of layered short hair, when she was sure she had longer hair as a human—there wasn't a big difference, just a couple of inches, so it wouldn't have caught her attention if not for the fact that when hair-length changed over time, it usually grew longer, not shorter.

But this she quickly filed away for later musing, and reached for the top of her head, where she found the remnants of her Hollow mask. It felt like some sort of hair accessory that was pinning up the hair on her left-side (the other strange thing: her bangs had actually grown slightly longer, such that the rest of her fringe was reaching her eyes when previously they were just touching her eyebrows), comprising of three bone fragments, two of which fused together at the end to form a single grooved horn.

"I see you're awake," came a smooth voice from the doorway that made a shiver run down her spine.

She turned to see Aizen standing at the threshold of the room, with a smile that strangely, infuriated her for no discernible reason.

"Aizen-sama," Chizuki greeted, bowing as little as she thought she could get away with. The man—whom she only just noticed had the reiatsu of a Shinigami—merely waved his hand in a gesture for her to follow him.

"You may put in a request for a personalised uniform later. For now, I have some Arrancars I would like you to meet. Come, Sangre."

With that, he turned and began striding away, as if he expected her to come to heel at his unspoken command. Chizuki—no, she was Sangre now—huffed under her breath and followed him.

* * *

 **That's all for now. Thanks for reading! The next chapter is currently being revised, so wait for it.**


	3. III: The New Kid

**Chapter three has been rewritten! Quite a few changes has been made from the original version, but they are kind of minor so if you're a reader of the previous one, just a head's up.**

 **Warnings: Maybe-semi-SI (I'm not sure), OCs, anime-typical violence, AU-ish, and time is a funny thing (details found before the chapters affected). Also, I first wrote this before I read the Fullbringer's arc and will continue with the ideas I have then. 'New' canon information that contradicts my theories of how things work will likely be ignored.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: The New Kid**

* * *

" _There's nothing like biting off more than you can chew, then chewing it anyways."_

* * *

Aizen led the new Arrancar into down the white corridors of Las Noche and into a room, which Sangre noted was also white. The ironical fact that white usually symbolised purity did not escape her.

There were a five other Arrancars in the room. Sangre was introduced to them, and the hierarchy system was explained to her: There were Números, ordinary Arrancar, and then there were the Espada, the elite ten. Sometimes, Números were picked as Fraccións (read: side-kicks) by members of the Espada.

The reason why she was being introduced to these Arrancars? Apparently, since she had been found by the Arrancar named Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, who was incidentally an Espada, there was a high chance she would join his Fracción team i.e. these Arrancars who did not appear welcoming at all towards the newcomer.

Once Aizen had left them alone to... Sangre wasn't sure if he expected them to play ice-breaker games and start team-bonding or whatever, but she knew it was highly unlikely they were going to get along. For one, even though only one of them was sneering outwardly, all of them were practically radiating hostility, as if daring her to join their 'clique'. For another, she found their reiatsu vaguely familiar, and wondered if she had gotten into a fight with any of them before... or even bitten one of them before.

Sangre sighed and contemplated just running far away into the desert because wild Hollows seemed a lot easier to deal with that whatever politics she had just been introduced to.

"So, this is the newbie. A scrawny _girl_ ," the sneering one scoffed. He had grey hair and the remnants of his Hollow mask was a strangely-shaped bulky helmet that was half wrapped up in bandages.

"It won't do to underestimate her. If she was chosen by Aizen, she has to have some potential," another chided. What remained of his Hollow mask was also in the shape of a very odd-looking asymmetrical helmet. "And it was Grimmjow who brought her in."

"Let's test her out, I say," the first one said, hefting his sword. "See if she's worthy of becoming one of us."

Sangre felt her face twitch. _'But I don't want to be one of you,'_ she felt like saying.

"Just leave her be, Di Roy," said a third. He was large, with funny coloured hair—half red, half black—and seemed to wear some sort of glasses. "She doesn't look like she'd provide any challenge at all, and if Aizen-sama has plans for her, he'd be terribly displeased with you for tearing her up."

"Well I'm not you, and if she can't even stand against me, Aizen-sama should be glad that I've rid him of trash like her!" 'Di Roy' exclaimed, unsheathing his sword. A feral grin stretched across his face, revealing sharp teeth like a shark's.

The name 'Di Roy' sounded familiar as well, and for a moment, Sangre despaired over her inattentiveness to names when she was an Adjuchas. She gave most of the Hollows she came across nicknames, and never did learn any of the names they gave themselves.

Then she had to duck the oncoming swing of Di Roy's blade and all thoughts of attempting to identify them left her mind. Dropping to her knees, she shifted her balance to one foot and swept out the other, just barely missing the other Arrancar's legs when he jumped to avoid her kick.

But he couldn't avoid her when he landed, as she grabbed hold of both of his ankles and pulled him down, gravity on her side. She used the momentum to spring up and tackled him, quickly catching his wrist before he could swing his sword at her again. Twisting it, she flipped him over and locked his arm behind him. Then, with satisfaction curling in her gut, she gave the back of his head a savage grin before she used her other hand to smash his head into the ground.

"Oh, would you look at that!" she mocked in the most irritating sing-song voice she knew. "The big bad shark gets beaten by the scrawny new girl!"

The Arrancar below her could only mumble out curses because his nose was broken and his face was still pressed against the floor. His teammates didn't seem inclined to help him, and Sangre snickered.

"Next time, listen to your teammates, yeah?" she said, releasing him. The Arrancar automatically swung around when she did, and Sangre casually dodged the punch before skipping out of the room, laughing as she went, just to be extra annoying.

The moment she was out of earshot, she stopped, turned to the nearest wall and banged her head against it, cursing herself as she did so. Because which idiot would go and make enemies on the first day at what seemed like a more-violence-less-education version of school?

* * *

Sangre chose to keep as low a profile as she could after that, suppressing her reiatsu as if she were on a hunt, and avoided any Arrancar who came her way, essentially sneaking about Las Noche like a thief. It was also hard to tell which Arrancar were a threat and which weren't, when many of them, like her, were suppressing their reiatsu.

However, it was just her luck that the moment she let down her guard, she was caught by a large Arrancar with white hair and looked like an ancient king of some sort, crown and all.

She had been busy attempting to locate the kitchens to get some food, feeling somewhat excited at the prospect of eating normally for once, though she wouldn't be surprised if they served meatballs made from Hollow-flesh, since Hollows were the only abundant source of meat around here. She had been so preoccupied imagining delicious food served on plates with proper cutlery that she failed to notice the increase in reiatsu around her until it was too late.

Sangre gulped, and wondered why the new kid always had to be picked on by the others. She didn't want to fight; she just wanted to eat. Without fighting. For once.

"What do we have here?" said the Arrancar. "A disrespectful little insect!"

Being held in the air by the back of her collar like a kitten, Sangre had a good view of everyone involved. There was the Arrancar holding her, and there were six others, standing in a manner that made Sangre suddenly wonder if they were Fraccións, and if she had just pissed off an Espada of all things.

She chanced a cautious look at the Arrancar, prompting a spiel about impudence and eye-contact which she ignored, more focused on trying to get a gauge on his reiatsu levels. It was higher than 'Di Roy' and seemed to be hovering around the same level as Jaegerjaquez. But this was when it was suppressed, which made her wonder what rank he was. Which then made her wonder what rank Jaegerjaquez was, because she only just realised that it had been _his_ Fracción she had beaten up, and she didn't know how he'd react to that.

"Are you even listening? Do you not know who I am?! I am the Baraggan Louisenbairn, King of Hueco Mundo!" the probably-Espada growled, swinging her. The Arrancar wasn't very tall, but she was a whole head shorter than him, which meant that her feet hovered a good distance from the ground when she was being held up like that.

Thinking quickly, Sangre affected the same tone and mannerisms she used when speaking to Aizen, properly polite and formal.

"Gomenasai, your Majesty," she said demurely, making sure to look chastised, even as she tried to recall if Hueco Mundo had a king before (it was almost funny how there were two individuals believing themselves to be ruler over the Hollow World and she had no clue about it until today). "Forgive me, I did not recognise you in my hunger and desperation for food."

"Hungry, are you?" Louisenbairn said, sounding more appeased... Until he said, "My Fraccións and I are hungry too."

Sangre was just wondering if she could convince him that she was too scrawny to be a satisfying meal, when she heard the unmistakable sound of swords being unsheathed. She glanced at her fellow Numerós and sure enough, their Zanpakutō were out.

She sighed, then reached for hers, only to find that there was no sword attached to her sash. In fact, she couldn't recall seeing any sword or weapon beside her when she woke in that room earlier that day. So where was her Zanpakutō?

Looking up, she realised that she had no time to figure out the placement of the sword all Arrancars were supposed to have (could it be with Aizen?) and quickly reached out an fist to hit the elbow of the hand holding her collar as hard as she could, which thankfully resulted in Louisenbairn dropping her. Once safely with two feet on the ground, she fled.

It was like that night all over again, except that this time, Sangre was faster, stronger and with more experience. She had a chance of winning if she could figure out where her Zanpakutō was... and if the fight was just against her fellow Numerós, because she knew she was strong but against an Espada? She wasn't suicidal.

While Sangre was fast—she easily left the others in a cloud of sand, a crackling sound accompanying her surprising burst of speed, and soon, they were out of sight—the others had more experience. She was the newbie, and they had been around far longer—they knew their way around Las Noche, shortcuts and all. It took her a minute or two to realise she didn't know where the hell she was going, and it took her another minute to realise that she could sense the reiatsu of Louisenbairn's Fraccións catching up to her.

An Arrancar came jumping out from behind a corner, sword swinging fast. Sangre barely had enough time to dodge it before another Arrancar appeared with his sword.

Almost instinctively, she spun to one side and lunged, delivering a swift strike to the neck of one of the Arrancars, knocking him out effectively. The other, she kicked away with one foot, and propelled herself in the other direction. It was only an ear-piercing shriek that made her look back and realised (with little regret) that she might have accidentally caused the Arrancar to lose all the manhood a Hollow might have.

The third Arrancar she met was grabbed by his arms and thrown over her head into the fourth Arrancar that had been sneaking up behind her. The remaining two Fraccións did not have time to make their attempt at attacking her because just when Sangre was relishing the fact that she was winning even without her sword, Louisenbairn chose that moment to show up and deal with her himself.

"Fools!" he yelled at his subordinates. "How could none of you last at least a few seconds against this ant?"

Sangre bristled at being called an ant, but wisely kept her mouth shut while wondering if she'd be granted mercy if she went down on her knees and begged. She didn't want to, of course, but survival came before pride.

She didn't see Louisenbairn charging up for a Cero until it was too late. For a moment, just a split second, she had a laughable idea about the Espada firing a Cero at her point blank because he didn't want to risk being made a fool like his Fraccións. She quickly dismissed this thought as she tried to escape the oncoming blast.

It was a futile attempt. They were in a courtyard with little cover, and a single wall wouldn't hold against a Cero. Sangre only had enough time to put some distance between her and Louisenbairn, feet hitting the edge of the other side of the large courtyard when she felt the energy being released.

Instinctively, Sangre covered herself with her own reiryoku, condensing it over her skin like a shield or armour. However, as time seemed to slow down, she could feel the heat of the oncoming Cero across her skin, burning away her Hierro.

Then, just before she was certain she was going to evaporate or disintegrate into ashes, she blinked at the hilt protruding out of her chest. Either she was having a near-death hallucination, or an Arrancar had tried to stab her _on top of Louisenbairn firing a Cero at her_.

She absently noted that she didn't feel a thing, and realised that the sword was right through her Hollow hole, which meant it didn't really pierce through her at all... But that was before she discovered that turning her head did not allow her a view of the end of the sword, which meant that unless it was an incredibly short sword, or the rest of the sword was in the same alternate dimension as her heart.

 _ **Pull it out,**_ a voice whispered into her mind, and Sangre did so obediently—being faced with certain death was not the time to question her sanity, hearing voices or not. She tugged on the sword's hilt and pulled it out from her Hollow hole with ease.

 ** _Now, we have little time_** , said the same voice. **_So just do as I say:_**

 ** _Charge the sword with your reiryoku._**

The blade began to hum as Sangre channelled energy through it, erupting into silver flames.

 ** _Swing the sword downwards and release the energy._**

The sword had a comfortable length and weight, the balance was just right, and it was surprisingly easy to wield, considering the fact that she had never used a sword before this.

 ** _And, leap!_**

Leaping was almost automatic as the backlash from the release of energy threw her into the air...

... Higher and higher...

... Until all Sangre could see was a brilliant flash of red light below her.

And that was when a thought occurred to her: _Did I just... use a sword to fire a Cero?_

The voice that had been whispering into her mind earlier did not deign to answer her. Sangre shrugged, because she didn't even know if the voice had been her imagination, though she was still holding a very real sword in her hand which she still did not know how it came to be sticking out of her Hollow hole.

Sangre returned to the ground as the smoke from the Cero's explosion cleared, and saw Louisenbairn hefting his Zanpakutō—a huge battleaxe. She knew she wasn't going to take a chance fighting an Espada head-on, so she shrugged off the remnants of her burnt-off jacket and taking advantage of his momentary confusion at her survival, sprang up once more, using the same technique as before to propel herself higher, and landed softly behind him.

His reaction was fast, and he turned immediately, swinging his axe as he did so. But Sangre was smaller and lighter, and it didn't take her much effort to jump onto the flat side of his axe-blade. One stride later and she was slamming the sword into the side of his head.

 _"And Jack fell down and broke his crown~",_ Sangre laughed to herself, nimbly jumping off as Louisenbairn dropped like a dead weight.

Feeling smug—it wasn't every day one got to say they defeated an Espada—she flashed his remaining two slack-jawed Fraccións a grin and went on her way, a happy skip in her step, swinging the sword as she did so.

And _that_ made her stop short.

Sangre held out the sword that was still in her hand. It had a straight double-edge blade that was almost as broad as its guard, just slightly narrower than the breadth of her hand, curving only at the end to form a point. The length of the blade was about half her height, while the hilt was long enough for her to hold with two hands. Though the blade seemed more similar to that of a medieval broadsword, it's hilt was designed like that of a katana, complete with ray-skin-and-silk wrapping and a kashira-type pommel.

 _Whose sword is this?_ She wondered to herself. And was startled when that voice spoke up again.

 _ **It's yours, my dear Arrancar. Yours.**_ The voice sounded very exasperated.

Sangre blinked and hefted the weapon. She had been wondering where her Zanpakutō had ended up, but she certainly hadn't expected it to appear to her sticking out of her own chest like that.

 _Is this normal?_ She asked the voice. But apparently the voice didn't seem to think that her question was important enough to answer and went quiet again.

She looked from the sword, to the collapse wall and pillars that had suffered from Louisenbairn's Cero, and then to the Espada who was currently being carried away by his Fraccións. Then she shook her head, and hoped that there weren't going to be too serious a consequence for all this violence. After all, Louisenbairn had been the one who instigated it, and in fact, so had Di Roy earlier that day. And surely Aizen couldn't possibly expect a whole bunch of Hollows to just miraculously get along, right?

Sangre turned to continue on her way and froze when she found Aizen standing right in her path, a look on his face that she would describe as 'serene' if not for the certain way his mouth was quirked that made his entire expression look... fake.

 _Ah hell,_ she sighed to herself. _Just when I thought I had escaped certain death today, the world sends me a Shinigami._

* * *

 **That's all for now. Thanks for reading! The next chapter is currently being revised, so wait for it.**

 **(Also, in case anyone is wondering, my reference for Chizuki/Sangre's current Zanpakutō is the ancient Chinese _jian_ as well as the _Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi_ )**


	4. IV: Segunda Espada

**So, remember how I said that the changes between this version and the original one was minor for the previous chapter? Well, here's where the clues to bigger changes are coming in. Like, I seriously redesigned my OC (I can't believe I spent a whole week on her) so to those who are old readers, I hope you'll still like her.**

 **I might upload her profile/background info on my profile page when we cover more of her later on in the story, as well as my ideas on how the Bleach universe works.**

 **Warnings: Maybe-semi-SI (I'm not sure), OCs, anime-typical violence, AU-ish, and time is a funny thing (details found before the chapters affected). Also, I first wrote this before I read the Fullbringer's arc and will continue with the ideas I have then. 'New' canon information that contradicts my theories of how things work will likely be ignored.**

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Segunda Espada**

* * *

" _Always hope for the best, and expect the worst."_

* * *

"Had a pleasant day, Sangre?" Aizen asked in a suspiciously polite tone.

Sangre was not really having a pleasant day, but she had a feeling that whichever way she answered, her reply could easily be twisted to her disadvantage. So she kept her mouth shut and fidgeted with her sword, and got momentarily distracted by the realisation that it had no sheath.

She tested the edge of the silver blade with a finger, and while the blade had looked sharp, it didn't cut her hand. Sangre was sure she should be concerned with a blunt blade, but at the moment, having a sharp blade without a sheath would have been more worrying. So, satisfied, she raised her sword and let its blade rest comfortably across her shoulder the way one might usually carry a pole weapon.

Then she noticed Aizen watching her with an amused look, and hastily rearranged her expression to something more contrite. This too appeared to be amusing to the Shinigami.

"So," he began when he finally had her attention, making her feel like she was a child standing in front of a school principal. "How does it feel having defeated both your peers as well as your senior?"

Aizen's choice of words did not help.

And when it appeared that the Shinigami would no take silence as an answer, Sangre finally deadpanned, "Oh, it was just awful."

He raised an eyebrow at this. Sangre wondered if he had a sense of humour. She hoped he had.

"I didn't mean to _beat_ them, Aizen-sama... But I just felt so... _attacked,_ " She delivered this with a straight face, then when she saw his other eyebrow rise as well, she threw in an extra-fake-and-cold smile. (She had a lot of smiles she didn't often use. Best to keep the good ones for when she really needed them).

But aside from raised eyebrows, Aizen did not react to her response in any way. A person with the right sense of humour would have chuckled, while most people might have rolled their eyes or made an exasperated remark about her use of puns, and others might have sensed the amount of hostility she had actually imbued into her words and smile and wisely retreat.

Aizen was none of these people.

Instead, he merely tilted his head the barest of fractions and seemed to contemplate something silently. His eyes were still fixed on Sangre, so she wasn't sure if he was ignoring her or not, but whatever he was thinking about, it took a long time of mulling and his stare was starting to get—

She barely kept her face from twitching as the possibility of Aizen doing this on purpose to disturb her occurred to her. She needed a distraction.

 _Swords usually come with sheaths, right?_

The voice in her head was dry, _**If you must, you may swallow it.**_

Sangre nearly choked. _What?_

 _ **Stick it down your throat. Keep it in your esophagus. Maybe you'll gain a sharper tongue that way.**_

Sangre returned her attention to Aizen, who was now smiling that eerie smile of his again. A part of her—the ridiculous part—was disgruntled that he appeared to have creepier smiles than she had. The other part of her was starting to get worried about the voice in her head. Unfortunately for her, she didn't have much time to think about either of these further, because the Shinigami had turned his back the moment he gained back her attention and had begun to walk away.

"Come with me," he threw out to her, back still turned. Sangre briefly entertained the thought of throwing her sword at his back, but knew that she'd probably be killed in half the time it took for her blade to reach him, so she reigned in her reiatsu, hefted her sword and followed after him like an obedient dog.

 _Is there really no way to carry this around more easily?_ She asked when she realised that blunt or not, having a blade digging into one's neck was still not comfortable, and the sword was kind of long if she were to carry it in her hands instead of on her shoulder.

 _ **It's Kagerō.**_

 _Pardon?_

 _ **The technique is called Meisai**_ _(_ 迷彩: _Camouflage)_ _ **, and the command is "Hikaru**_ _(_ 光る: _Glimmer)_ _ **."**_

Sangre stopped in her tracks and pulled the sword off her shoulder. She had no idea what exactly the voice was telling her to do, but it hadn't given her bad instructions so far, aside from the earlier joke about knife-swallowing (which she hoped was really a joke).

She stared at it for a while, wondering if she was really about to command the sword to... do something. Every other technique she had used before had come to her instinctively, without the need for any incantation or command. This sounded like it was bordering on magic.

Sangre blinked several times, squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again.

She could see her reflection in the polished surface of her sword, and while previously she had been too busy admiring the weapon, this time she noticed what she couldn't believe she didn't notice before.

For one, her eyes were no longer the dark violet colour they once were. In fact, they didn't look normal at all. Instead, she now had a blood-red left eye, and her entire right eye appeared to be nothing more than an inky darkness (but she could see out of it, so it couldn't just be a hollow eye socket), which made her blink several times in an attempt to correct what she perceive to be a mistake, because her face now looked seriously creepy.

For another... Her hair had not only been cropped shorter than before (and her hair when she had been human hasn't been much longer than chin-length), as she had discovered earlier, but it was also sporting a strange new colour—some sort of bright golden tinged with pale green, as if someone had used a cat's iris as a palette and dyed her hair and eyebrows with it.

Sangre was even more alarmed now. She liked her hair black, and even if she were to dye it, she'd choose a really dark colour, like wine red or navy blue.

(The only bright side of having this ridiculous hair colour was that it detracted some of the creepiness of her eyes... Oh who was she kidding, she looked more like an alien than anything with practically luminous hair and one visible blood-red eye... Which made her wonder why the other Arrancars had tried to attack her when she looked like that. She wouldn't attack herself if she were them—she looked poisonous for heaven's sake).

Though a better question would be...Who dyed her hair anyway? Assuming it was dyed and not actually permanently this way?

The only person she could think of was unfortunately Aizen. He had been the one who turned her into an Arrancar, and she still did not know what _that_ involved, so for all she knew, he could choose what hair colour the Hollow would end up having (especially if one considered the fact that many Hollows did not have hair until they became a Vasto Lorde or Arrancar). That would explain why Jaegerjaquez had that striking shade of blue as his hair colour, and she also recalled seeing someone with green hair and another with purple hair...

Sangre recalled her previous comparison of Las Noche to a school comprising of abnormally violent students, didn't know whether she should be horrified or amused at the idea that some of them could actually pass for human delinquents, considering how a lot of the Arrancars she had seen didn't appear older than 30 (their actual ages were another thing altogether, and Sangre suspected she might be the youngest spirit in Las Noche).

 _ **Focus.**_

Sangre startled at the sudden voice and shook her head. She'd ask Aizen later, maybe, after she was sure she wasn't going to be chopped up and fed to the other Arrancars for dinner.

Turning back to her sword and feeling a little silly, she muttered, " _Hikaru, Kagerō._ "

Nothing happened for a beat, then soft silver light enveloped the blade and she watched as its form lengthen and change. When the light faded away, the weapon had turned from a sword to a polearm. It looked like a glaive with a black shaft that was probably two metres long, and a broad translucent blade as long as her forearm, with one edge curved like an ordinary blade and the other edge curved to form two hooks.

Sangre didn't think she had heard of a technique that could change the shape of one's Zanpakutō before. She spun the weapon around, but it didn't feel much different from its previous form despite the change in shape. She wasn't complaining, of course, but she was curious as to whether this change was just an illusion that could be dispelled or was it an actual change in the form of the weapon.

"Sangre."

The Arrancar looked up from her blade and realised that Aizen was no longer in sight. Filing her questions for later, she made a quick decision and tore off part of her sash, turned it into a makeshift harness for the polearm. Once the weapon was comfortably strapped across her back, she picked up her speed and sprinted to catch up with the Shinigami.

"You know," Aizen said the moment Sangre skidded to a stop behind him. "I can't have my Arrancars going around and killing one another as and when they feel like it. Especially when I've only just started building my army."

Here he paused, and Sangre wondered if it was just for the sake of dramatic effect. It was the sort of thing _she_ would do. So she kept her expression neutral and tried not to worry about where this conversation was going...

(She recalled seeing the number 37 tattooed on her right cheek in bold black ink—further supporting her idea of younger Arrancars looking like delinquents and older ones looking like gangsters—which meant that she was the thirty-seventh Arrancar to be created by Aizen. She had also heard of naturally occurring Arrancar before, but she didn't think there were many of them. So there couldn't be more than forty of them in Las Noche at the moment... just enough for students to fill up either a large class or two small classes.)

" _Fortunately,_ " Aizen finally continued, and Sangre quickly returned her attention back to him with a sheepish expression. He smiled genially back at her, but his dark eyes were as cold as ever. "We appear to have an Arrancar capable of stopping fights without maiming anyone. You should be glad to know I've found a use for you."

A part of Sangre was relieved to know that she wasn't going to become dinner, while another part of her was ringing alarm bells because she wasn't sure what 'use' Aizen meant for her to be. It appeared to be linked to her ability to fight combined with her reservation against unnecessary bloodshed (the general rule was that unless they had seriously pissed her off or if they were going to be eaten, there was no need to cut anyone up), so it couldn't be anything too bad, like being made to fight other Hollows in a gladiator match for entertainment, right?

Her thoughts wandering further, Sangre didn't realise the Shinigami had stopped moving until she nearly walked straight into him. She thanked the heavens that she didn't.

"Incidentally, have you chosen a last name for yourself?"

Sangre blinked at the random question. She already had a last name, but it was her human last name and she didn't think Hollows needed last names... Though Louisenbairn had a last name and Jaegerjaquez was also likely a last name though she couldn't tell because it was Spanish and she didn't know what was normal for a Spanish first name and what wasn't.

 _What's Spanish for 'Yoruka' (_ 夜火 _: Night-fire)?_

 _ **What makes you think I know Spanish?**_

Sangre thought the voice had a point, considering how it had just taught her a technique in Japanese, when everyone else seemed to have a tendency of using Spanish phrases and names. 'Cero' was an example, 'Hueco Mundo' was another, not to mention every evolutionary stage from 'Menos Grande' to 'Arrancar'.

 _ **Aporruon.**_

 _Aporruon? What does that mean?_

 _ **It's not Spanish,**_ was all the voice was willing to explain.

"Aporruon," Sangre said to Aizen. "Sangre Aporruon."

The Shinigami nodded to himself. Peering around the taller spirit, Sangre found that they were standing at the entrance of a conference-room-like hall. There was a long table in the middle and seated around it were a few Arrancars. Sangre recognised some of them from her exploration trip around Las Noche.

There was Jaegerjaquez, whose blue hair automatically drew her attention. Then there was the violet-haired girl who was seated right beside him. On her other side was an Arrancar with normal black hair but looked like a really emo clown because of his pale face, eyebrows that looked like they had been thickened with black paint, and a teal-coloured line running down each cheek like tear marks. But right opposite him was the young woman with green hair.

She counted the number of people with weird hair colour—there were five including the guy with burnt orange Afro hair that was brighter than her classmate's hair colour, and the guy whose entire head was just covered by some strange white helmet. Then she counted the number of people who looked remotely normal—there was only one guy and he was dozing off in his seat. The remaining three consisted of a large man with a weird-shaped head and orange eyebrows despite the fact that his hair was black, an unnaturally long guy with an eyepatch and a smile that had too much teeth, and the sad-looking guy that reminded Sangre of the faceless ghost from Spirited Away.

A sudden realisation came to her and after confirming that the perceivable reiatsu of everyone in the room was at a similar level to Louisenbairn's, she jerked her head to stare up at Aizen.

He merely inclined his head towards the room, wordlessly prompting her to enter ahead of him, an amused smile playing across his weasel-like face.

Sangre instinctively reinforced her skin with reiryoku as she stepped into the gathering of Espada, feeling most of their eyes follow her movements like watchful cats. Jaegerjaquez's in particular felt like it could burn through her if looks could kill... or if he were capable of firing ceros out of his eyes. (Sangre wondered if she should attempt apologising to him about his Fracción).

"Welcome, my dear Espada," said Aizen as he entered the room after her. "As you can see, Baraggan is not with us today, and will not be joining us in the future. That is because we have a new member in the team." He gestured to the youngest Arrancar. "This is Sangre Aporruon. She will be replacing Baraggan as Segundo Espada."

Sangre swallowed a hiccup. _What?_

Everyone else in the room appeared to have similar reservations, though the pirate-slenderman was the only one openly sneering at her, while the rest of those with visible facial expression (this automatically disqualified the one whose entire head was covered, the one who looked like he might fall back asleep anytime, and the emo-clown) simply looked like they were doubting Aizen's sanity but were unwilling to express their opinions on the matter.

She didn't blame them. If Aizen has been her peer, Sangre thought she would most likely have grabbed him by his collar and demanded to know if he actually thought she was stronger than eight of the Arrancars in the room. She was also curious if she would be able to draw out a outburst from one of the current Espada by announcing both her soul's actual age (thirteen years) and her Hollow age (three weeks).

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it), before she could be tempted to try, Aizen actually invited the Espada to ask questions if they had any. Sangre couldn't tell if he genuinely wanted to hear their questions or if there was a threat hidden in his invitation.

But the violet-haired girl took him up to it, and raised her hand. Now that Sangre was paying more attention to her, she noticed that the Arrancar looked less like a delinquent and more like a fan of Gothic-Lolita fashion, because her outfit actually had frills and puffy sleeves, her violet curls looked carefully styled and she also wore fingerless evening gloves.

"Aizen-sama, what happened to Baraggan?" She asked. Something in the way she spoke made it quite clear to Sangre that she didn't care about Louisenbairn himself, but was simply eager to hear about what kind of misfortune had befallen him.

However, it appeared that it was a question that a few of them were also curious about, namely the pirate-slenderman and the strange-browed giant. Some of the others looked like they already knew what happened, and that was when Sangre realised that the Lolita-girl herself knew the answer—she was merely waiting for Aizen to confirm what she suspected.

But what _had_ happened to the former King and Espada? Sangre knew she had knocked him out, but she didn't know what being demoted meant. What kind of punishment awaited him? Was this like the mafia or something different?

"As I'm sure some of you are already aware, his status has been changed to Privaron Espada, and he will be joining the Cientecimo Tercero. Ordinarily, I might have considered demoting him to Tercer and shifting all your ranks down by one, but we have no space in this team for those who _underestimate_ their opponent so grossly that upon picking a fight with them, end up being defeated within less than a minute." Aizen smiled with narrowed eyes. "A piece of advise for some of you: being senior gives you more experience than your junior, but if you become complacent, the new will replace the old."

Silence followed his speech, and Sangre noted with some interest that the Lolita-girl was no longer smiling.

"That is all," said Aizen after a beat, as if he hasn't just threatened every other Arrancar in the room. "Cirucci, Gantenbainne, please stay back. The rest of you are dismissed."

When the Espada began filing out of the room, a few of them looking back to glance at her before they left, Sangre realised that the Lolita-girl was Cirucci, while the Arrancar with the orange Afro was called Gantenbainne, a name she was sure she was going to forget within the next hour.

"Ah, and Gin," Aizen called out just as Sangre was trying to figure out if _she_ had been dismissed as well. "You may cease eavesdropping and give our newest Espada the usual orientation."

The newly promoted Arrancar barely kept herself from jerking in surprise when someone stepped out from the shadows behind the door. She had not noticed his presence earlier, either because he had been suppressing it particularly well or because she had been preoccupied with being the subject matter of an Espada meeting. It was likely a combination of both, as Sangre saw another Espada (the pirate-slenderman) do a double-take at the man's sudden appearance, before he gave Sangre a wide smirk and left.

Sangre did not like the look of the smirk and wondered if Aizen was about to introduce even more stress into her day. Her only comfort was that it seemed like the 'orientation' was something that the other Espada members had gone through before as well. An unofficial initiation trial perhaps?

" _Sangre_." Said Arrancar quickly snatched her gaze away from the leaving Espada and back to Aizen who appeared to be surprisingly patient because he had yet to call her out on her constantly wandering attention.

Aizen gestured to his eavesdropping follower, and Sangre froze when she realised she recognised him. "Ichimaru Gin is my subordinate; he will be your guide for the rest of today, and you can ask him any question you may have about Las Noche or the Espada."

Tall, silver hair, pointed face with slitted eyes and a wide grin like a fox's, and an obvious reiatsu now, which felt like it was coiling lazily around them. Even if Aizen had not introduced him as a subordinate, even if the man hadn't been wearing a uniform similar to Aizen's, Sangre knew without a doubt that this man was a Shinigami.

 _And he's not just any Shinigami_ , she mused to herself as she watched him casually reply to Aizen with a sharp grin, reminding her for a moment of a snake.

But while a part of her wondered how much of a coincidence it required for her to encounter the same Shinigami from that night here in Hueco Mundo of all places, another part of her was growing increasingly puzzled over the question of how a couple of Shinigami got themselves involved in Hollow business. It was hard for her to wrap her head around the idea of a Shinigami just striding into Hueco Mundo, overthrowing Baraggan and building an Arrancar army.

"So, you're the new Espada, eh? That's..." said Ichimaru, turning to face her, words faltering as their eyes met.

Sangre was proud to say that she saw the precise moment his eyebrows rose every so slightly and his smile slipped. It was just for a short moment, barely a blink and it was replaced by the wide mocking grin from before, but she had been watching carefully, having wondered if he would recognise her too.

A Shinigami's job, as far as Sangre knew, was to purify Hollows and protect ordinary souls from being attacked or eaten by Hollows. They were like a spiritual police force. So how often does a Shinigami kill Hollows? How often do they help a soul targeted by Hollows? How likely then, was it for a Shinigami to remember a soul they helped?

Ichimaru's reaction essentially confirmed that regardless of how often Shinigami exterminate Hollows it protect souls, it was highly likely for the Shinigami to remember the soul they helped... if said soul had attempted to tried to help the Shinigami in return, get injured in the process and ultimately become the very creature the Shinigami was supposed to protect them from. Even if said soul was now sporting a new hair colour and altered eyes.

Sangre smiled to herself. Now, time to test the waters.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Next chapter should be up by the end of this coming week if not earlier.**

 **(Now, time for a little fact:** **Sangre's chosen last name 'Aporruon' is derived from the word/name 'Apollyon'** (Ἀπολλύων) **, which means 'Destroyer' in Ancient Greek).**

 **(So, why Greek? Because I realise that the names of many of the Arrancars were not necessarily Spanish, and I heard some people say they were derived from the names of architects? Well, I didn't feel like looking for more architect's names, so I just found a name I felt would suit, and it conveniently followed the whole double-letter thing that Kubo-san has going (you know, like Grimmjow and Harribel)).**


	5. V: Kitsune-gao Ichimaru

**So, in Japanese, someone of a lower rank would use the title of the higher ranker instead of 'you'. However, when I tried to incorporate that to show when Sangre's using polite speech and when she isn't, well it's just awkward in English. So, since I'm assuming we are all English readers who are not to particular about the accuracy of speech rules, I'm just going to stick to English conventions. Just keep in mind that every time she says 'you' to Aizen or Gin, it's really 'Aizen-sama' or 'Ichimaru-san'.**

 **Also, I went to look up the Kyoto accent that Gin apparently has, and to my untrained ear he just sounds extra polite and posh and like the words are graceful? But there are also contractions and other little things like repeated an adjective instead of using the word that means 'very' or something. I tried my best. I don't think it works very well, but I tried.**

 **Anyway, aside from me likely caring too much about a fanfiction, please enjoy.**

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Kitsune-gao no Ichimaru**

* * *

" _A smile confuses an approaching frown. It's also an inexpensive way to change your looks."_

* * *

"Aizen-sama said I could ask you anything about the Espada and Las Noche, right?" Sangre said brightly, as if she weren't talking to the Shinigami whom she had taken a hit for and ended up as a Hollow as a result.

Ichimaru grinned back at her, as if he weren't talking to the soul he had failed to protect. "You could."

Sangre raised an eyebrow, she knew this trick. "I could, but would you answer them?"

She didn't think his smile could grow even wider, but it did.

"I might," he said, sounding amused. Sangre thought it was probably the best she could get from him, so she asked the question that had been on her mind since it occurred to her that it was odd for Adjuchas-level Hollows to attack Karakura town the way they did that night.

"Why are there Shinigami in Hueco Mundo raising an army of Arrancars? And how long has this been going on?"

Ichimaru merely beamed at her as if he were a teacher and she the kindergarten kid.

"Ah... for a greater purpose, I would say," he replied, annoyingly vague. "And why, I think we first met with one-zero-two 'bout... twenty years ago?"

 _Twenty years_ , Sangre took a note. Seven years before she had been born. And yet she was the thirty-seventh Arrancar. How many failed experiments had Aizen gone through before he could create Arrancars like Lousenbairn and Jaegerjaquez?

"Who's one-zero-two?"

"The one who ' _fell and broke his crown'_ ," Ichimaru replied, sounding positively gleeful. Sangre stared as the words were processed in her head.

She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut again as Ichimaru watched on with fascination. She had been about to question if he had been there during the fight, because that would have been kind of creepy, that she and Lousenbairn hadn't noticed him at all. Then she remembered that this was the first time he's seen her since that night, which means he couldn't have seen her then, or he would have realised who Aizen was promoting.

(Unless that subtle change in expression she had witnessed earlier had been faked... Which she doubted because she was usually good at this sort of thing, but one never knew. She was already beginning to question so many things... like the possibility that everything, including that night, had all been set up specially to convert innocent human souls like her into Arrancars for Aizen's army. It was practically a conspiracy theory at this point in time).

"Aizen-sama," Sangre guessed. He'd been there when she was walking away from the fight, so it wouldn't surprise her if he had been there the whole time and it fit his creepy fake face. "He told you."

Ichimaru took a while to smile at her, and Sangre resisted the urge to fidget.

"Did'ja think I was quotin' you? Is that why you're surprised?"

Sangre blinked, "... Yes?"

And watched with some wariness as the Shinigami clapped his hands in delight. She didn't see why.

"Would you believe me if I said I wasn't quotin' you or Aizen-taichō?"

Sangre breathed in, took a moment to wonder to herself if talking to him about anything big or small was going to take this long, then breathed out in a huff.

"Are you saying you thought of that phrase yourself?" Which Sangre supposed was possible, if the Shinigami had been around long enough to pick up English nursery rhymes from humans. _How old was he, really?_

"Yes! It would seem like we have the same wavelength! How wonderful," Ichimaru said, wide grin stretching even wider.

It was in that moment that Sangre found out how _not_ wonderful it was. Because she actually did like annoying people who weren't going to kill her. And she suddenly realised that if Ichimaru was right, then he was the same. The difference? His level of ability meant that there were more people he could annoy without fear of dying than she did. And _she_ was one of them.

Her friends would say she was getting a taste of her own medicine. Sangre wished it weren't true.

"Now, it's my turn! I have a question for ya," said Ichimaru, now behaving like a child. A very dangerous child who had a sword and knew how to use it.

"Okay," Sangre agreed, because it wasn't as if she could _disagree_. "But before that, what does 'orientation' actually entail?"

"Oh, the usual... I show you 'round, an' you try to remember your way so you don't get lost..."

"Is the first stop the kitchens?" Sangre interrupted eagerly. At that, her stomach growled in agreement. Ichimaru looked amused.

"Why not?" He said, and they finally left the meeting room, Ichimaru in the lead and Sangre skipping at his heels.

The kitchens had only two staff members who were lounging about beside an huge oven emitting red light. Both shaven heads, and were shirtless (and sweaty), their jackets tied around their waists. Sangre noted that one of them had the number 19 tattooed on his nape, while the other had the number 30 on his shoulder.

"It's way past lunchtime, kid," said one of them when he saw Sangre.

"She missed lunch due to a meeting with Aizen-taichō," Ichimaru said, coming up behind her, startling the two Arrancars.

"I-Ichimaru-sama!" The both of them gasped and scrambled to stand and execute perfect 90-degree bows. Sangre could only stare in awe. Perhaps, if she had been any other Arrancar, she might have gotten worried about how the other Arrancars were reacting to the Shinigami. However, at the moment, amazement was taking priority over worry, and all she could think of was how she wished she could be like Ichimaru. Sure, Aizen could probably achieve the same effect, but she didn't want to be like _Aizen_. That guy was on a whole different level of scary. Any fool could see that.

"So, what d'ya wanna eat?" Ichimaru asked, turning to her, and Sangre quickly rearranged her expression to something less starry-eyed.

"Eggs," she automatically replied. "Any kind of eggs. And cheese. Any kind of cheese. And sausages—"

"—Any kind of sausages?" Ichimaru guessed, amused. Sangre nodded vigorously, not caring if the Shinigami was teasing her.

"If there's dessert, anything with chocolate is good."

"You heard her," said Ichimaru to the other Arrancars. The two kitchen-staff quickly got to work, and once again, Sangre marvelled at their efficient obedience.

While waiting for the food to be prepared, Ichimaru and Sangre sat at the nearby stone benches.

"Y'know," Ichimaru began when Sangre got comfortable enough to hum a cheerful tune in her anticipation of a warm freshly cooked meal. "You still haven't answered my question."

The cheerful tune died a mournful death in her throat. She'd been hoping he hadn't noticed, but of course he did.

"You haven't asked your question," she pointed out, while praying that his question wouldn't be some ridiculously hard trick question. Ichimaru smiled like he totally saw through her avoidance technique.

"Have we met before?" He asked as he leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table, and rested his chin on the bridge formed by his hands.

Sangre subconsciously leaned back.

"Surely you'd remember if we've met before? My eyes and hair colour can't be that forgettable," she said, running a hand through her short hair. Ichimaru tilted his head, and Sangre assumed he was taking in the entirety of the gold-green cat-eye-coloured glory that was her hair... She couldn't tell for sure because she still couldn't see his irises through those slits that were his eyes. For all she knew, he could be staring _behind_ her.

"Hair and eye colour can change," he finally said. "An' besides, I don't remember what colour hair or eyes you had before."

Sangre supposed it had been dark that night. She remembered his hair had been almost white in the moonlight, but she could see now that it was silver with a tint of lavender.

"You're assuming we have met before," she said, folding her arms across her chest, then unfolded them when it occurred to her it might make her seem defensive. "But the thing is, you can't remember what you've not seen before."

"So, you're sayin' we haven't met before?" Ichimaru questioned.

"I'm saying I'm pretty sure I'd remember your face if we have met before," Sangre replied, gesturing vaguely at his perpetual fox-like face. Ichimaru smiled back at her as if he knew exactly what she was referring to.

"Which would mean that the answer is 'no'?"

Sangre gave him a flat look, then said, " _Yes_."

"Oh good," Ichimaru said, so blithely that Sangre had the sudden urge to hit him. She settled for consoling herself that he didn't seem to realise that her 'yes' had been a correction and not an agreement.

"Why are you relieved?" she asked, curiosity piqued. "Would it have been awful if we've met before?"

He chuckled and admitted, "It would have been bad, _really_ bad."

Sangre stared at his face, and decided that despite what he said, he looked like he would have actually enjoyed it if they had met before, at her expense, of course.

He was getting more annoying the more he talked, and Sangre couldn't help but feel grudging admiration for him, because there was no doubt that he knew what he was doing.

Every expression on his face, every word he said, every inflection in tone he used, was meant to annoy the other person.

She didn't realise it then, but that was probably around the time when she subconsciously moved his identity from the box labelled 'annoying Shinigami' into the one labelled 'senpai'.

A big plate of eggs and sausages arrived, golden-brown and hot and almost drowning in sizzling melted cheese. Despite the heat, Sangre shovelled it all up so fast, it was as if she had a black hole in her mouth. All three of the others—one Shinigami and two Arrancars—watched her with some mix of horror and fascination.

"D'ya eat Hollows the same way?" Ichimaru asked. He was all fascination and no amount of horror. "Just—" he gestured to her practically drinking up her fried eggs.

Sangre inhaled half an omelette before she paused in her eating to reply, "Maybe when I was a Gillian. But not after, and definitely not now, unless they've already been torn to smaller pieces. I'm not a snake-type of Hollow, you know." She didn't add that if Ichimaru's face didn't remind her so much of a fox, she'd have pegged _him_ as the snake, because that's what his reiatsu felt like—thick and large coiling snakes.

"But I heard you were a dragon-like Vasto Lorde before," said the snake-like Shinigami. "You had horns, fangs an' a very long body... And you still have one of 'em. A horn."

Sangre didn't know how she had looked like before meeting Aizen. Sure, she knew what she _had_ (horns, fangs, claws, a long tail), and there were Adjuchas who called her 'Serpiente' before... But she still didn't know what he was talking about.

"You're wrong about that. First, I was an Adjuchas, not a Vasto Lorde," she said, jabbing a fork in Ichimaru's direction for emphasis. "Second, a dragon is not a snake."

"Really?"

"Really, where did you hear that from anyway?"

Th other looked almost contemplative. Almost. For the most part, he looked like there was some inside-joke she wasn't privy to.

"A reliable source," he simply said.

Sangre sat up at that, and stared at him with disbelief. " _Aizen_?"

Ichimaru smirked.

* * *

(Later, she realised that amidst her peeved surprise, she had totally forgotten to add the proper honourifics behind Aizen's name but Ichimaru hadn't called her out on it).

* * *

Las Noche was a lot bigger than Sangre had expected and there were no signs anywhere that she could use for directions. Many of the corridors also looked the same, long and white with some doors that were also white. The scenery outside didn't change much either: vast white desert, scraggly trees, a large moon in the night sky... and more white desert, more scraggly trees and more night sky.

Ichimaru introduced her to the labs that were available for them to use, other meeting rooms, lounges, storage rooms, throne rooms (because Aizen needed more than one throne room for some reason). The only place above ground that Sangre was interested in was the library, which got her so distracted that the Shinigami found himself tying up the Arrancar with a binding spell and physically hauling her away from the books.

She was certain he thoroughly enjoyed the whole thing, because he kept grinning and waving to passing Arrancars while she was dragged on the floor behind him, bundled up in a ribbon of cloth such that she couldn't speak or move more than a slug could.

The underground portion of Las a Noche was slightly more interesting as it actually had dungeons, and a couple of huge training rooms built to withstand anything less than a full-powered cero.

Sangre noted that all these rooms, while not white, had little colour either, and were either grey or some colour similar to it.

Then Ichimaru brought her over to the different residences of the other Espada, which were more vibrant in colour. She couldn't enter any of them without the owner's permission, but a few of them were practically buildings by themselves, and while they seemed largely monochrome, they definitely weren't white or grey.

"That's where Coyote stays," said Ichimaru. "I hear he has more than one room just for sleepin' and restin' in."

"Coyote?"

"Oh, Coyote Starrk, the Prima Espada."

When Sangre continued to stare at him blankly, Ichimaru continued, with comical hand gestures. "The one with brown hair, looks like he'd rather be taking a nap than attend a meeting."

"Ah, the only normal-looking guy," Sangre muttered, which made Ichimaru grin even wider. It went on like this, with the Shinigami showing her who's who and who lives where.

"And that one belongs to Ulquiorra Cifer. He's the Cuatro Espada. He's the one who looks kinda like a... miserable cat."

"Sad-Face!" Sangre exclaimed, enlightened.

"Y'know, the tall Arrancar with the eyepatch? That's Nnoitra Gilga, Octava Espada an' that's where he lives."

"Pirate Slenderman," Sangre nodded to herself. "Even Ichimaru-san thinks he's tall."

Ahead of her, the tall Shinigami turned to flash her a grin. "Sure, Nnoitra is tall, but ain't ya just short?"

She sulked all the way to Aaroniero Arruruerie's palace.

* * *

Sangre didn't know how long it took for a promotion to become official. She didn't feel any different from when the day had started, although she was getting used to the idea that she was going to be one of the top ten Arrancars. Once she got over her initial shock at being promoted so suddenly, a part of her remained wary because she hadn't just become second in any group of Hollows, but she had become second in _Aizen's_ army, and she wasn't sure if that was really a good thing. On the other hand, there was a part of her that was feeling insufferably smug about being rewarded so grandly for defeating Lousenbairn. It was a part of her she tried not to show, because they always said that pride comes before a fall.

Regardless of whether it had been made official or not, it appeared that her promotion hadn't been revealed to the other Números yet, because there were eleven straggling Fraccións and one Privaron Espada waiting for her at the foot of the tower that served as the temporary quarters of Arrancars without a role (i.e. unemployed). According to Ichimaru, it was also where she was going to stay until her own private residence was set up.

Louisenbairn was the easiest to spot because of the gigantic axe he was carrying. Because his tattoo wasn't located anywhere visible, Sangre couldn't tell if the number had changed from 2 to 102. She hadn't had a chance to look in the mirror at her own either, but she was going to assume that her number hadn't changed yet. (Because disregarding Louisenbairn, surely the Fraccións wouldn't be so foolish as to challenge a member of the Espada?)

"You should be grateful that Aizen has forbidden us from releasing our weapons within Las Noche," was the first thing Louisenbairn said. Because it seemed like her predecessor had felt the need to warn her about how much more dangerous he could be. Sangre wondered if she should reply in kind, since the rule now applied to her too, though she had yet to figure out how one actually went about performing Resurrección.

"Do you know what my powers are?" Louisenbairn continued. "I am Age and Time. Nothing can escape my Senescencia. Did you notice? You're already trapped within my field of time-dilation. Last time, you got lucky. This time, I'll show you your place, little ant."

She hadn't noticed the field until he mentioned it—a heavy red-tinted force that saturated the air. It certainly explained why his Fraccións and Jaegerjaquez's Fraccións were acting so sluggish. Sangre looked over to the side where she could see a sliver of silver glinting from the shadows of the pillars lining the building right next to her. She could still feel his relaxed reiatsu, like serpentine wisps of mist, easy to miss but just barely noticeable if one knew to look for it. He was watching out of sight, as he must have done during the Espada meeting, like a snake in the grass.

"Age and time, you say?" Sangre said, turning her attention back to Louisenbairn as if she hadn't just spent several seconds blatantly ignoring him—several seconds that she thought he would make his move in, but had chosen to spend fuming at her instead. "You're getting old for this, aren't you?"

"Why you insolent—!"

Sangre supposed that experience and knowledge sometimes did ease fear. Many are afraid of the unknown.

She had feared Louisenbairn earlier that day, just six hours ago, not knowing his power. She had been cautious, because that was what survival was about, and had behaved based on the idea that he was far above her level. Defeating him once didn't change that, neither did getting promoted, because it wasn't as if she had become stronger after the fight or after rising in rank.

But now, as she saw how his Fraccións were cowering behind him, it occurred to her that the reasons she had for being wary of him had never been due to a physical reaction of feeling his reiatsu. Had Aizen been right about something?

Sangre released the reiatsu she had been suppressing out of habit due her tendency to try and hide it. Golden-yellow light filled the air, and if she needed any more proof, it was right in front of her—with the addition of her reiatsu to Louisenbairn's, the Números had stopped cowering and appeared to be frozen on the spot with a blank look in their eyes. Louisenbairn himself had stopped with a frown.

She smiled at him with the creepiest expression she could make, starting with wide eyes and a smile that slowly grew wider and wider. It worked. Louisenbairn faltered again and she, unlike him, used this time to remove her Zanpakutō from her sash-turned-sling.

It was like touching a source of energy. The moment she had her glaive's handle in her hands, a heaviness she hadn't realised she had in her body was lifted. Louisenbairn, who was lifting his axe in preparation for an attack, didn't seem to move as fast as he did before.

Sangre charged her weapon with reiryoku, not really knowing what she was doing, simply thinking of a way to propel herself the way she did back when her sword had actually been a sword. Doing the same thing with a pole-arm would be hard and rather awkward considering how much longer it was (considering how unwieldy it was since it was almost _twice her height_ from pole-end to blade-tip). So instead of jumping and swinging the blade below her, she settled for stabbing the ground in front of her.

Apparently, expelling reiryoku from a weapon stuck in the ground was a lot different from just swinging it during the release. The ground shook, the air rippled... And for a moment, all the colours appeared desaturated. Sangre didn't have time to wonder at this because she was already sprinting and leaping to close the distance between herself and a seemingly frozen Louisenbairn.

Then she was pulling Louisenbairn's axe out of his hands—it was a lot heavier than she expected, almost making her drop the weapon—and taking advantage of Louisenbairn's momentary daze, jumping backwards with the axe until she was back where she started and releasing her glaive from where it was stuck in the ground. By the time she was done, the colours seemed to have gone back to their normal vibrancy and saturation.

And Louisenbairn was staring dumbfounded at his empty hand.

"See?" Sangre said smugly, tapping the handle of the axe she now had resting axe-head-first on the ground (because hell, she wasn't going to carry that thing longer than she had to). "You're getting old."

"How—?!" Louisenbairn sputtered before something made him stop short. Sangre felt it the moment his reiatsu was hauled back in as the time-dilation field he had was lifted—not that it appeared to have been very useful. But she didn't let up her own reiatsu. She turned to his Fraccións, flashed them a sunny grin, then did the same with Jaegerjaquez's Fraccións out of which only three remained standing.

Then, she suppressed some of her reiatsu, and waited.

The first to move was Jaegerjaquez's Fraccións, who scrambled to flee the scene with their comrades carried on their backs. It seemed like they were smart enough to realise when to retreat. After all, she had succeeded in beating one of them _without_ her Zanpakutō, and now she not only had her weapon out, but had disarmed Louisenbairn of his.

The next to move were the next set of Fraccións, who had also appeared to have learnt from their defeat and Sangre was helping them along by playing up the creepy factor. They began tugging on Louisenbairn's clothes, heedless of his attempts to swat them away.

"That's not possible!" Louisenbairn was saying. Sangre didn't know exactly what he was referring to, but she cheekily replied all the same, "Most things are really just improbable."

"Your Majesty!" This was his blonde-haired Fracción. "It would be best to retreat for now and—"

"And what?" Louisenbairn demanded. " _I_ am the best here. Why should I run when—"

And that was his tallest Fracción, who had appeared to take a leaf out of Sangre's book. The other Fraccións stared at him in shock.

"This is for our king's own good," the large Fracción said grimly, and hoisted the unconscious Arrancar on his shoulder. "Let's go."

Sangre thought they were admirable in their loyalty, but was also curious as to whether Privaron Espada got to keep their Fraccións.

Once they had all left, she turned and walked over to where Ichimaru was skulking in the shadows, leaving Louisenbairn's axe behind. She wasn't going to carry that thing around with her, and she figured he or his Fraccións could just return to retrieve it later.

"Ya ain't gonna kill them?" Ichimaru asked when she stopped in front of him. Even standing this close to him, Sangre observed that his reiatsu was barely noticeable. He seemed to have this ability to just fade from notice if one weren't paying him attention. She wondered if the Shinigami would teach her if she asked. (Back when she had been an Adjuchas, hiding her reiatsu had become second-nature for the hunter, but it still didn't mean she could keep others from seeing her if she weren't camouflaged in the sand or the sky.

"Nope," she replied, as they continued their journey into the residence.

Ichimaru tilted his head. "Why not?"

"I don't think I'm allowed to," she replied, thinking back on Aizen's words earlier that day. He had implied that he preferred it when his Arrancar _weren't_ going around killing one another, and that he that valued her for her ability to ending fights _without_ maiming anyone.

"Really?" Ichimaru said, sounding a mite disappointed, as if someone had refused him a treat. "Well, what if you had permission then? Would you kill them?"

Sangre gave him a side-ways glance and hummed as if in thought, even though there really wasn't any question about her answer—she was neither angry with them, nor did she feel the need for... hunting down fellow Hollows like a predatory creature. Not anymore. Not now that she had more or less gotten her humanity back (there was still _something_ missing, but she wasn't sure what).

"Sangre?"

"Yes?"

"Was that a yes, you'd kill them?"

She smiled wryly at him when he glanced back at her.

"No."

"So…?"

She chose to remain silent, just to get back at him for successfully annoying her earlier, and merely looked outside at the barren desert as if admiring the scenery.

"Sangre, that was your cue to elaborate."

"Eh?" She turned back and pretended to be surprised. "Sorry, I was actually waiting for you to elaborate."

"Me?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "You said 'So…' but you didn't continue. So what?"

" _So_ , would you kill them or not?"

"Ah, I see," she nodded to herself. "Real sorry for misunderstanding."

"Sangre." Sangre noted with barely disguised glee as the slightest bit of exasperation began to deep into his words and still-smiling expression. "You didn't answer the question."

She blinked slowly, like an owl. "Ah…? I didn't?"

"I wonder... D'ya speak like this to Aizen-san?"

Sangre automatically thought back to what she _had_ said to Aizen (as opposed to what she wanted to say but didn't).

 _(("Oh, it was just_ awful _." ..._ " _I didn't mean to_ beat _them... I just felt so..._ attacked _, you know."))_

To be fair, she had tried to tone down her cheek.

"Aizen-sama is scarier than Ichimaru-san," she admitted.

"Really? I don't know if I should be disappointed or pleased!" Sangre personally thought he sounded way too pleased. "Hey… If I said I liked ya, would you tell me if you'd kill them?"

She made a sound in her throat, something akin to a suffocated groan... or a noise a dying frog might make, feeling like the Shinigami had just overturned the tables on her, because now she was the one feeling exasperated.

"I'm not sure if it's a good thing for me to have gained your interest," she finally said.

Ichimaru huffed, then huffed again, until Sangre realised he was trying not to laugh.

"What's so funny?" She demanded.

He just continued to looked kind of amused, a trait she now associated with Aizen... and possibly Shinigami in general, though she supposed that a sample size of two wasn't really enough for such a generalisation.

Unlike the private residences, the building Ichimaru was leading her through was absolutely white. And when he showed her to her assigned room, the room was also white—the door was white, the walls were white, the floor and ceiling was white, even the desk at one corner was white, not to mention the bed, sheets and pillows.

Sangre thought the room was as luxurious as a prison cell could be, though it was huge.

"How long will it take for me to get my own place?" She asked, looking around the room with mild distaste. It certainly beat living in a cave out in the desert, as she had done so before, but compared to her old room when she had been human... And with the possibility of getting her own private residence? She probably wouldn't have been dissatisfied with the room if she hadn't had a better option to look forward to.

"You'll need to file in a request first, then our architects will take a few days to a week to design the place to your liking, and after that, a week to a few months to actually construct the place depending on the scale of it," Ichimaru replied. "Aaroniero's palace took four months, while Neliel's wing only took three weeks."

The Tercer Espada (which Sangre would continue to use instead of her last name which was too long) shared a building with Gantenbainne Mosqueda and Cirucci Sanderwicci, though they really only had a common central block, because each of them had a wing to themselves, and each wing had its own entrances and exits.

Sangre sighed and dropped herself onto the bed, which was at least comfortable enough, then squeezed her eyes shut upon seeing the pure white ceiling before her. She wasn't sure if she could stand staying in such a white room for another month or more. Perhaps she would paint everything black, turn it into her own temporary cave, see what Aizen would say about that!

"Ya seriously gonna do that?" asked Ichimaru. Her eyes flew back open in surprise, and she quickly sat back up, having momentarily forgotten he was still there. She hadn't realised she had voiced her thoughts aloud either. Sangre could only hope that he wasn't going to relay what she said to Aizen, and if he did, that Aizen wouldn't be the sort to get slighted by such a small thing.

"Perhaps," she said, observing his unchanging smiling expression. "But that would depend on whether I could find the right paint. One that is perfectly black and doesn't smell too much,"

Ichimaru chuckled again. Privately, Sangre thought that while his smile wasn't really creepy, just a little irksome at times, his chuckle was more unnerving. Yet, it wasn't enough to disturb Sangre. No, what disturbed her was the way his reiatsu felt like it was laughing with him, and she could almost imagine a mass of coiling grinning snickering snakes around him.

She shuddered and shook her head free of that image.

"I could show ya where to get some," Ichimaru said, seemingly oblivious to her train of thought.

At the moment, she was still uncertain if she wanted to spend more time with him, so she said, "Nah, I can't be bothered to go get it… I'm afraid if you really want to see me paint the room black, then you'll have to get it for me."

After all, even though conversing with Ichimaru was interesting if a little tiring at times, and she did want to learn from him with regards to intimidation techniques, she wasn't sure if it was safe to do so. The snakes that his reiatsu felt like certainly seemed lazy and unbothered, but she didn't trust that they wouldn't turn deadly on his whim. She would be a fool to seek more interaction with him before first getting a better idea of him. While her intuition about people hadn't failed her before, in a violent world like the one she was in, just trusting her intuition wasn't enough.

While she contemplated Ichimaru's character, it appeared that Ichimaru had been considering her suggestion, because the next thing he said was, "If I were to get ya the paint, will you tell me if you would have killed those Arrancars supposing you were allowed to?"

She felt her face twitch. "You're still on about that?"

When Ichimaru chose not to reply, lest she try and avoid the question again, and it appeared he wasn't going to leave without her answer, Sangre sighed.

"Fine," she said with a huff. "I wouldn't have killed them."

"Why not?"

Sangre gave him a flat look. "Don't you think killing someone just like that is a bit too much? I wasn't even angry. I don't have any desire to eat them. Why would I kill them?"

"Baraggan would've killed you, if it had been the other way around," he pointed out, though it wasn't as if Sangre wasn't aware of that, considering how that was how the whole thing began in the first place. "Congratulations on your promotion, by the way. I don't think I've ever seen Baraggan so shaken since that time we took over his palace."

"Oh, the number has changed?" She touched the tattoo on her cheek, but it didn't feel any difference. It would certainly explain Louisenbairn's reaction, however.

Ichimaru didn't answer and simply went on to say, "In any case, I can bring you around to see the rest of Las Noche tomorrow. We have three small buildings that are not in use much, if you'd like to convert one of them or part of one into your residence. Be up by dawn, and I'll come by with the paint."

He waved and left the room, but Sangre had only flopped back onto the bed for a few more seconds before his face appeared at the doorway again.

"Ah, I forgot to ask, how did you get his Zanpakutō?"

"Eh?" Sangre blinked. "I suppose I caught him by surprise and took it from him. Did you not see? I used my Zanpakutō to increase my speed and I think he must have frozen there for about a second."

"Oh, scary, _scary_..." Ichimaru said, though his perpetual smile and lilting tone didn't match his words.

"What's scary?" She asked with a slight frown as the Shinigami was about to turn and leave.

"Sangre-kun," Ichimaru began with a look that bordered on patronising. "You didn't move at all."

* * *

 **That's all for Chapter Five. Thanks for reading! Next chapter will be up by next week.**

 **What are your thoughts about this so far? Feel free to review or PM me anything!**


	6. VI: Old Acquaintances, New Friends

**So, I planned Chizuki/Sangre's abilities and appearance, and a bit of her personality, but I think, for the most part, she's writing herself. I guess her personality has changed a little since the original fic as well, though hopefully she'll feel more solid now.**

 **Now, on to the story. (Since I do not have a beta, I apologise in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes).**

 **Warnings: Maybe-semi-SI (I'm not sure), OCs, canon-typical violence, AU-ish, and time is a funny thing (details found before the chapters affected). Also, I first wrote this before I read the Fullbringer's arc and will continue with the ideas I have then. 'New' canon information that contradicts my theories of how things work will likely be ignored.**

* * *

 **Chapter Six: Old Acquaintances, New Friends**

* * *

 _"If I agreed with you, we'd both be wrong."_

* * *

The first day after getting promoted to Segunda Espada, Sangre immediately wrote to the three Arrancars in charge of the architecture and the uniforms.

To the two in charge of architecture, she requested for a tall and narrow building that basically towered over the main building of Las Noche and had two basement levels—one for a cellar and one below for a private training area. She also requested for a wall around her tower that was at least three metres high. For colours, she basically requested for every colour of the rainbow.

To the one in charge of the uniforms, she requested for a fitting black short-sleeved polo-necked shirt, a long white vest with a hood and black inner lining, white pants that were less loose and a pair of soft black boots.

Sangre had decided that she was going to wear modern clothes instead of something reminiscent of the Shinigami's outfit. Though she enjoyed the billowy feel of the hakama, she found it distracting when she tried to practice with her weapon... And she wasn't a Shinigami. How they did it, she had no idea. Their hakama was even looser than the ones she used to wear when she took aikido classes.

Then she spent the rest of the day sketching out what she wanted for her room.

The second day after being promoted, Sangre was informed that a tower that was higher than the main building and in those colours was not possible, much to her disappointment. So she sent out an amendment to her request. Since she couldn't have something that high, she decided to inverse it and go deep, and requested for a building with only one floor above ground, and five basement floors that were twenty-metres in total depth underground, with the lowest room having a double-volume height.

Unfortunately, when she asked if she could have tunnels all over Las Noche leading to her basement, one of the Arrancars had given her the most unimpressed look she had ever seen, despite the fact that his mask covered three-quarters of his face, and told her to build those herself if she really wanted to. Though she would have to get permission from Aizen first.

For colours, she asked for all the hues of a sunset. Later that evening, she received a letter from Aizen himself with a list of permitted colours. Bright scarlet, fuchsia and magenta were not part of the list. In the end, she settled for bands of red, orange and ochre that, with the rough sketch she gave them, would result in a building that would look less like a building and more like a red rock formation.

Later that day, she went out hunting for scrap material from the storage rooms she remembered being introduced to by Ichimaru. She got lost and only managed to find her way back to her room long past dinner time.

The third day after she got promoted, she finally got around redecorating her room. She managed to find decent blue and purple paint, which she mixed and blended to achieve a gradient of colours from her floor to the edge of the ceiling, which remained white. She also painted her bed-frame, desk and chair a warm wooden colour.

The fourth day, she managed to use the scrap cloth she found to sew herself a patchwork quilt, colourful pillow cases, and cushion covers. Because she didn't actually have cushions, she spent the evening hunting down a bird-like Adjuchas. She let the poor traumatised thing go free after she'd removed all its feathers.

The fifth day, she had nothing better to do than to familiarise herself with Las Noche. The fox-faced Shinigami had yet to show up since he left her the night of her promotion. Sangre supposed that as a Shinigami, he had to have Shinigami duties to attend to, but she thought it was rather rude of him to tell her to meet him a dawn but never turn up. He was also the last interaction she had with a fellow sentient being, not including the large owlish Hollow she caught the night before.

It was on this day that things began to liven up.

After a while of aimless wandering, Sangre came across an interesting sight.

In one of the many courtyards of Las Noche, she saw the Tercer Espada and Gilga the Pirate-Slenderman sparring with each other. Or perhaps it would be more appropriate to say that the Tercer was training the Octava, because while Gilga was fighting with all his worth, she was blocking his strikes and dodging every other blow with ease.

It served for some entertainment, so Sangre took a seat on a chunk of rock and watched until the Tercer defeated Gilga soundly. With the fight over, she decided that staying longer would require interaction with people she wasn't sure she wanted to interact with just yet—her impression of other Arrancars hadn't been favourable so far—and quickly got up to leave.

The giant scythe that came flying at her when her back was turned didn't help to change her current theory that they were all uncivilised creatures (conveniently forgetting that she had subjected an Adjuchas to the trauma of being hunted down and de-feathered just because she wanted cushions for her room).

Sangre was glad that her instincts and reflexes had been sensitive and fast enough for her to dodge the blade and grab the scythe's handle as it flew past her ear.

When she turned, she saw Gilga sneering at her from a distance away. Near him, the Tercer had stopped in her tracks to frown at him, though he wasn't looking in her direction.

"Hey, you! Leaving so soon? Too scared to fight me?" Gilga taunted. Sangre wondered if he had lost too much blood because which sane person would challenge someone of a higher rank for a fight _right after getting badly beaten up by another person of a higher rank?_

So she did the only thing that made sense to her: She decided to prevent him from making any more foolish mistakes by returning his Zanpakutō... That is to say, she threw it at him and because his reaction time wasn't as fast, he got hit on his head by the handle of the scythe and fell unconscious. She thought he should just be grateful he didn't get his head split open, which could have happened if her aim had just been a little off, and the blade of the scythe had hit him instead.

"Not bad, newcomer," said Tercer as she strolled towards Sangre. "Neliel, Tercer Espada. Pleased to meet you."

Sangre thought Neliel had to be the nicest person she had met so far, and greeted her with a bright sincere good-day smile. She stuck out a hand and Neliel shook it.

"Sangre, Segunda Espada. Pleased to meet you too," she said. "Say, can I call you 'Neru-chan'?"

Neliel smiled back warmly. "Sure... _San-san._ "

Sangre sputtered. "That's—ugh! That's terrible! If you must, please use 'Sen' instead."

That made her laugh. "I was just joking," she said, grinning. "Sen-chan it is then."

"Ah, finally," Sangre exclaimed with exaggerated relief. "Someone who is friendly, civilised and has a decent sense of humour."

Neliel nodded sagely. "People like that are certainly hard to find in these parts."

"Have you met Jaegerjaquez? Or Louisenbairn? Or Ichimaru?" Sangre sighed. It was a rhetorical question, since Neliel had been around longer than her and had to have interacted with them sooner or later.

"You'll find that Grimmjow is decent enough, compared to Louisenbairn and this guy," she replied, pointing at Gilga with a thumb. "Though the one who is least disturbing is likely to be Ulquiorra, though that's probably because he hardly speaks unless he needs to, and he'll leave you alone for the most part. Just don't provoke him unnecessarily."

Ulquiorra, Sangre recalled, was the one with the sad face, the one that Ichimaru described as a miserable cat.

"But Ichimaru is on another level," Neliel continued with a slight shudder. "Don't worry too much if you find him terrifying. It's nothing personal. He's like that to everyone. Even Coyote thinks the Shinigami is creepy."

She wasn't sure what to say to that. She had found him a little annoying and possibly dangerous, but not _terrifying_.

"What about your own experience?" She settled on asking.

Neliel grimaced. "He's like a snake. Even though I can't see his eyes, when he looks in my direction, it feels like I'm being watched by a predator."

Sangre wisely chose not to comment on how Neliel's ram-skull Hollow mask seem to imply that her previous form had been something resembling a herbivore.

Later, after a brief conversation about the other residents of Las Noche, which was really just gossip, they parted ways with a promise to meet up some time later in the week for a friendly spar.

* * *

Las Noche was a maze, but Sangre soon figured out some markers to help her with her directions.

The next person she encountered did not notice her. It was a pink-haired Arrancar who was using one of the labs. His reiatsu wasn't very well controlled, so Sangre could detect it within a kilometre. Observing the Arrancar from well outside the lab—the noxious yellow fumes in the lab made sure she kept a good distance away—Sangre mused that his terrible control could be due to his frustration, because his curses seemed to get more colourful the longer she watched.

Two floors down, east of the labs (and the waving tentacles of Pink-haired Scientist's reiatsu), was the library.

The scent of ink and crisp paper reached her before she even caught sight of the library. Sangre gleefully grabbed an armful of books from the fiction section and dropped herself on the floor, not bothering to find a chair. Now she could be free to spend hours there without getting hauled out by an annoying Shinigami.

Sangre only left the library when her stomach began protesting about the lack of food, because sadly enough, she wasn't a literal bookworm.

There was no librarian, so Sangre happily left the library with a pile of books that was stacked so high, she could hardly see from behind them... Which was why she should have been more alert. By the time she sensed the familiar reiatsu, she had walked right into the Arrancar. In her defence, said Arrancar did not have a pile of books blocking their sight, and should not only have sensed her but seen her coming as well.

The books went tumbling and Sangre yelped as she tried to prevent all of them from hitting the floor. The Arrancar caught the rest with just one hand out—the other hand was used to grab her shoulder lest she actually crash into him—and between both their reflexes, they each got a smaller pile of books.

"Watch where you're going, brat," came the irritable voice of none other than Jaegerjaquez. Sangre noticed that he had a scowl on his face that seemed as permanent as the smile on Ichimaru's. His reiatsu felt prickly, like a large grumpy tiger or jaguar. If it were more solid, Sangre would likely have scratch marks all over her by then.

"Ah, sorry, Jaegerjaquez," she apologised sheepishly. She reached out to take the books he had balanced on one palm, but he extended his arm and raised the books above his head, just barely out of her stretch-and-jump reach. Sangre silently cursed the fact that the Arrancar was taller and longer-limbed than her.

"'Jaegerjaquez'?" He repeated, eyebrows raised, his scowl turning into a mocking grin, though she observed that the furrow between his bright-blue eyebrows was still there. "The fuck? Are you serious?"

Sangre stared at him, feeling bemused. Was that not his last name?

"Shit, you are!" Jaegerjaquez laughed.

"I don't get it, what's funny?" said Sangre, confused and a little peeved. "Did I pronounce it wrong?"

The Arrancar laughed again. "Nobody has called me by my last name before. Not Aizen, not Neliel, not even fucking Aaroniero!"

Blinking, Sangre found herself saying, "Then I apologise on their behalf for their rudeness, _Jaegerjaquez-san_."

Jaegerjaquez gaped at her and she stared unflinchingly back. For a while, it seemed as if he needed some time to process her very existence.

"Hey, if I return these books to you, will you do me a favour and crash into Ulquiorra or Nnoitra?" He finally said. "And you don't have to be polite either. Don't call them Cifer-san or Gilga-san or any of that shit. Just pretend you didn't see them, yell your apologies and hightail it. Then do it again. Elsewhere. Keep running into them."

Sangre briefly wondered if the new Segunda tattoo on her face was visible, because he sounded like he was talking to his Fracción instead. But she couldn't find it within herself to take offence because...

"Are you asking me to prank them?"

" _Yes_." For a moment, she thought he looked like a cat that had just been exposed to catnip. Unfortunately, she didn't think it would go very well if she told him that.

Sangre ran a hand through her short hair, still trying to puzzle out why he felt so damn familiar.

"What did you look like before you became an Arrancar?" She finally asked.

"Hah?" Jaegerjaquez gave her an incredulous look. "You're such a strange brat. I was a leopard. Why?"

Sangre had only ever encountered one leopard-like Hollow before.

"Shirahō!"

The expression on his face was priceless, and Sangre suddenly wished she had a camera. His eyes had widened, his jaw gone slack, and she saw a blue eyebrow twitch. Then the expression crumpled into something that could only be described as horrified frustration as he scrubbed his face with a hand, as of by doing so, he wouldn't have to see her.

"Is there any point in me telling you that if you want to give me a fucking nickname, just call me 'Pantera'?" He growled through his hand.

She gave him a bright grin. "Nope!"

'Shirahō growled again, and Sangre resisted to tease him about being a grumpy cat (she recalled the last time she did that, she got claw marks scratched into her armoured front).

"I can't believe this. You? A small girl? Serpiente?"

"I'm not small," Sangre protested. She got a large hand ruffling her hair for her efforts… Well, ruffling would have been an understatement, since she was pretty sure the other Arrancar was just trying to turn it into a bird's nest.

"No, you're fucking tiny. You're… here," he said with a large grin, gesturing to his chest. "The Serpiente I knew was larger than me."

Sangre scowled. "Weren't every one of your followers bigger than you? Especially Hammerhead? I assume they're your Fraccións now? I thought that Di Roy guy seemed familiar. He's shorter than you, ain't he?"

"Speaking of my Fraccións, what the fuck did you do to them? They say you're a nightmare," he said. She wasn't sure if he had deliberately changed the subject and wrinkled her nose.

"I only beat up Di Roy because he was being annoying," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I didn't do anything else. And anyway, what do I call you now?"

She supposed she might have deserved the look he gave her then.

"Like you ever cared about what anyone wanted you to call them? I'm surprised you're bothering to remember names now."

"Names are just words. I'm not the one who didn't recognise their fighting partner after a few days of not seeing them."

"Did you see yourself? No? That's probably because you were half-dead by then. And why was that? Because you had enough wounds to make you look like the leftovers of someone's hunt."

Sangre snorted at that.

"You should've seen the other guy," she said out of reflex. Jaegerjaquez—Shirahō—Pantera—whatever gave her an odd look. She thought it looked suspiciously like a mix of pride and admiration. Which was strange, because the Panther she knew didn't really do 'admiration'. Then again, she had really only known him for about a week.

"Yeah, I would've seen him, if there had been anything left to fucking see!" He said, blue eyes glinting like gems, lips pulled up in a grin that had all the aggression of a snarl. "I can't even say I'm surprised you're Segunda. I wish I had been there to witness that bastard's annihilation!"

Sangre didn't know if she should feel pleased or exasperated.

"Jaegerjaquez-san," she said, earning her an indignant look from the other Arrancar. "You still haven't returned me the books."

"Yeah, no, that level of politeness is just fucking creepy. And isn't that a mouthful?" He replied, ignoring her question. She sighed.

"Well, you're not exactly a white panther anymore, so I don't think I'll use 'Shirahō'. I considered 'Hyōō', but I think that would boost your ego too much. And 'Jaegerjaquez' fits you best. Now, the books?"

"Hyōō. Panther King. I like the sound of that," said Jaegerjaquez with a smirk.

"The books?" Sangre repeated, wondering if she should just kick him. "If you would like to witness me behaving like a child at the expense of Cifer, you should return the books soon."

"It's Ulquiorra, not Cifer, and why not Nnoitra? He's annoying as fuck too."

"Because I already knocked him out once today. I'm being nice and giving him a break."

"You what—? When was this?!"

"Earlier. It probably won't be the last time either, so don't worry about it. You're not missing out."

Then, just as she began contemplating which part of him to kick, Jaegerjaquez seem to finally oblige and... placed the stack of books on her head.

"There. Now run along, and—FUCK!"

Sangre scooped up the books that had fallen when she'd kicked him hard in the shin, and sonído-ed away before the Arrancar could get back up. That, she decided, was what he deserved for treating her like an underling.

* * *

 **That's all for now! Thanks for reading!**

 **How was it? Next chapter will be up by next Wednesday if not earlier.**

 **(By the way, I'm actually really curious about those of you who are reading this because you followed the old one. What do you think of the changes? How do you find this one compared to the previous one? Feel free to drop me a review or a PM if you wanna comment or discuss anything!)**


	7. VII: Foundations

**Kind of a short chapter.**

 **Hope you'll enjoy it all the same!**

 **Disclaimer/Warnings: (No additions, see first chapter)**

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Foundations**

* * *

 _"Hospitality: making your guests feel like they're at home, even if you wish they were."_

* * *

In the end, Sangre only crashed into Ulquiorra twice before she got the feeling it would be a very bad idea to do it a third time, Segunda or not. She still had Neliel's advice in her head, and she knew better than to underestimate someone who appeared to be of a lower rank. Louisenbairn had made that mistake, and look where he ended up.

Ulquiorra, Sangre found, was like a perfect weapon. Cold, emotionless, and indifferent. But there's only so many times you can foolishly play with an unfamiliar knife before it cuts you. As she made a hasty exit, Sangre felt his reiatsu flash like the gleam of sharp teeth or a creature's eye, or a blade that had caught the light. And she made a mental note not to anger this Espada, unless absolutely necessary.

Later, Jaegerjaquez came by her room to congratulate her, because he'd made sure to cross paths with Ulquiorra and was thoroughly satisfied with the irritable aura the Arrancar had. Sangre just thought that Jaegerjaquez was going to die early someday.

She said as much.

"Bastard deserves it," he insisted, totally missing the point. "When are you gonna do the same with Nnoitra?"

"Some other day," she said, and went back to reading the book. Jaegerjaquez dropping himself onto her bed and she felt the mattress sink with his weight. She glared at him, because he was totally invading her personal space, but he wasn't looking at her.

"I didn't know we could personalise these rooms," he commented, glancing around the room.

"I'm taking the sheets, quilt and cushions with me when I leave," Sangre replied.

Jaegerjaquez looked pointedly at the newly painted walls.

"And those?" He said, jabbing a finger at the blue surface.

"Ah," was all she could said, and smirked to herself.

The other Arrancar snorted, catching on. "Why don't you paint all the other rooms too? And paint them black while you're at it. No, wait. Paint them fucking _pink_."

Sangre wondered if he thought she was just going to go along with it. So that he could enjoy the results while she's the one taking the risk of annoying powerful people. She did it with Ulquiorra, which she supposed wasn't quite a waste, since she got to scout out his reiatsu, but provoking Aizen to this extent? Oh, it wasn't as if she didn't want to, or didn't dare to... It was just...

"Oi, oi, what's wrong with you?!" Jaegerjaquez demanded. He stared perturbed at the girl who had this strange expression on her face. Coupled with her mismatched eyes and the intense feeling of danger lurking just out of sight—large unblinking eyes watching from afar, claws extended, strong fangs ready to—

"Nothing's wrong with me, Jaegerjaquez-san," she said with a serene smile. It was as creepy as the ones that the Shinigami often wore, except she did this with her eyes wide open.

—He'd nearly forgotten that the young girl before him had been a predator just like him. The thing was, some people were all bark and no bite, and some had barks fiercer than their bite or the other way around. He, the white leopard, had been equal bite and bark, but she, a creature of myth and legend, was all bite with no bark. Serpent, they called her, though it was an inaccurate description. Hell-spawn would have been better. Death without warning. Sometimes, she would descend from the air, and carry away an unsuspecting Hollow. Other times, she would fold her wings and lie in wait, hidden in the sand.

"Fuck," said Jaegerjaquez, but he didn't move from where he was seated. There were three things that kept him from either making a strategic retreat or challenging her. The first: his pride wouldn't allow him to leave with his tail between his legs. The second: she was undisputedly stronger than him and while others might say he was reckless and hot-blooded, he knew he wasn't suicidal. The third: she chose him as her hunting partner—the closest to an equal as one could get—back when they were Adjuchas.

"You can paint, right?" she asked, still smiling serenely.

"Yeah," said Jaegerjaquez.

"I like your suggestion. Let's repaint this whole block together," she said.

"Yeah," was his reply, because it didn't make sense to say anything else if he wasn't vehemently against the idea. Then, because painting did sound more boring than his preferred activity—picking fights with other Hollows—he said, "How about a paint war? Any technique allowed."

"Except Resurrección," said Sangre with a nod, and the dangerous aura that had pervaded the room evaporated like morning mist in the sun.

"Yeah," said Jaegerjaquez, blinking at the change. "Except Resu—who the fuck would pull a Resurrección in a paint war?!"

She gave him a flat stare. "You would."

* * *

Since the painting session was scheduled for the next afternoon—the two of them had agreed to hunt down paint and equipment first—Sangre spent the next hour just lying on the bed, reading a book. She wasn't going out of her room unless she absolutely had to, not when there was a possibility of Ulquiorra lurking around somewhere. She'd rather give him time to forget about what she did.

One hour later, the seamstress finally came by to drop off the uniform customisation she had asked for. When she asked if the Arrancar had heard anything from her fellow staff members about the building she had requested, she was told that it would take at least another week or two, and that they were still in the midst of building the basement levels.

Two hours later, Sangre's stomach had begun to grumble. It was loud, and she swore it was fierce enough to shake the room. Then she chided herself for such a ridiculous thought when she realised the room was actually appeared to be shaking from some external force.

"An earthquake?" she wondered, but she wasn't sure Hueco Mundo had any earthquakes. The next possibility, then, was a big fight.

The next rumble was accompanied by vibrations that made it increasingly hard to read, as well as a sudden surge in reiatsu—two of them, in fact. It was indeed a fight. But, Sangre observed, one reiatsu was a lot greater than the other, but the greater reiatsu didn't feel as threatening as Ulquiorra's or even Louisenbairn's, which meant it was likely just some Números. A very suicidal Números who had, for some absurd reason, judging from the other very familiar reiatsu, decided to challenge a certain Shinigami.

Sangre sighed, and lamented the fact that her room didn't have a window for some reason—which only served to strengthen her association of the room with a prison cell. Which meant that if she wanted to see what was going on, she would have to get out of bed and leave the room.

On her way out, she came across a couple of Arrancars sitting on the floor hugging their knees. Both looked extremely displeased and upset at having been reduced to this state.

"I'm going to see if I can settle it, if that helps," she told them with a grin, feeling pleased at the realisation that the reiatsu was heavy enough to press down on lower ranking Arrancar.

One of them gave her an incredulous look but didn't say anything, while the other mumbled, "Finally, an Espada that is actually helpful."

"That's _Ichimaru-sama_ out there," protested the incredulous one.

"But the one causing trouble is that number 33!"

"Better to wait for Ichimaru-sama to take care of it than to interfere!"

Sangre decided it was best to just leave them to quarrel it out, and left them in the hallway.

The fight—if it could be considered a fight—was taking place in one of the many courtyards of Las Noche. There were huge stone debris and chunks of rock scattered everywhere, just as there had been during the spar between Neliel and Nnoitra. And in the middle of all the mess stood a huge Arrancar Sangre did not recognise, holding a Shinigami captain up by the collar of his haori.

"I've finally got you, Shinigami," she heard the Arrancar say as she watched from the arcade. "Not so great now, eh? You lot think you can just order us around just because you used some Shinigami magic make us look like humans."

Said Shinigami was hanging there, feet actually off the ground, looking utterly relaxed with his usual grin on his face. He didn't look like someone who was 'not so great now.' He looked like he was just playing along with whatever delusions the Números seemed to be having.

(It was times like this, when it was clear that the Shinigami was clearly powerful, and quite capable of holding his own against high-level Hollows, that she wondered if she had been foolish that night her human-self got attack, if she had interfered when it hadn't been necessary, and had needleesly gotten the wound that led to her Hollowfication.)

 _He's going to die_ , Sangre realised, as she watched the Arrancar's rant give way to stuttering as Ichimaru slowly increased his reiatsu. It was like watching a National Geographic documentary, a fight between a blustering rodent and a snake, except that this rodent does not appear to notice until too late that the snake had wrapped its coils all around it.

 _And he said I was scary_ , Sangre huffed to herself, arms folded as she leaned against the wall. The Arrancar appeared to have wet his pants but was still stuttering insults at Ichimaru. Then the Arrancar unleashed his Resurrección as if it were his trump card, which she supposed it was, but one look at Ichimaru's face and she knew it was useless.

She had no reason to interfere with the fight, aside from the desire to have the fight wrap up as quickly as possible. The Arrancar had asked for his own death, and Ichimaru himself was dealing with it, and Sangre had no attachments to this unknown Arrancar. So she sat down, and waited.

And waited.

And… waited.

It soon became clear, as she watched Ichimaru toy with the Arrancar even though he was fighting in Resurrección mode, that the fight was going to be a long one. One that would likely result in the Arrancar dying a slow and painful death.

She scrubbed her face, took off her glaive and stared at it. She hadn't heard the voice for days now, and it still didn't surface again, even when she asked it what she should do.

"What was it, that Aizen said?" Sangre muttered to herself, recalling once again, what he'd said about her use as an Arrancar who could stop fights without maiming anyone. "Ah, how troublesome."

But she still channelled her reiryoku into her blade and stabbed the ground with her glaive. Last time, Ichimaru claimed she hadn't moved from the spot, and she recalled the colours changing after she stabbed the charged blade into the ground. If it had actually been a technique that she had used, all she needed to do was try and replicate it again.

Sure enough, the moment she stabbed the ground with her blade while releasing the energy she had charged it with, all the colours became desaturated, and everything seemed to have frozen in time. The Arrancar was stuck mid-swing, while Ichimaru was casually dodging the attack, and was actually suspended in the air, as both his feet had left the ground.

"Okay," she said, and it felt like she was talking to an empty room—there was no sound, not even the soft patter of her footsteps on the ground, and she thought she might start hearing things if she didn't say something to fill up the silence. "This is some weird shit."

Then she remembered that she had a fight to stop—which had been stopped quite literally for now—and that she could figure out what this technique was later. She skipped towards the Arrancar and the Shinigami, and was faced with two options: one, disarm Ichimaru, and two, knock out the Arrancar. Or she could go for a third option which was to kill the Arrancar. Except that it would be utterly pointless to do so. There was really no question on which choice she'd pick.

She delivered a hard strike to the back of his neck, but nothing happened. It felt as if she had just hit a statue. Just as she was about to hit him again, she experienced a strange sense of vertigo, and found herself standing right where she started. In front of her, the world had regained its vibrancy, and the Arrancar had collapsed in a heap on the ground like a puppet with his strings cut, his Resurrección dispelling the moment he lost consciousness.

Sangre stared at the Arrancar lying on the ground, then at Ichimaru—he had side-stepped in time to avoid the large falling body—who was also peering at the Arrancar with great interest.

"This reiatsu…" He lifted his head and peered in her direction, smile threatening to split his face when he saw her. "Sangre-kun! Doesn't it seem like knockin' people out is your specialty?"

"Ichimaru-san," she greeted him as she skipped over and bobbed in an approximate of a bow. "Okaerinasai."

"You're quite a cheeky brat, aren't ya?" He said brightly. "I'm the Third Division Captain, y'know. Shouldn't you call me by my title?"

Sangre didn't know any Hollow who would call a Shinigami 'Captain'. Hollows were Hollows, and Shinigami were Shinigami. It didn't matter if a Shinigami were the Captain of what Division. All that mattered was who was stronger and who was in power. Which was probably why Aizen and Ichimaru were 'Aizen-sama' and 'Ichimaru-sama' (the latter whom she tried not to use '-sama' for, because having to show one Shinigami so much respect was galling enough).

"Apologies for my lack of manners, Kitsune-taichō," she said with mock contriteness. She wasn't going to call him 'Ichimaru-taichō' for as long as she had to call Aizen 'Aizen-sama'.

"Oh?" Ichimaru said. "My… You're a certainly a bold one…"

He said this with a smile as usual, so Sangre had only his reiatsu as a gauge for his mood. She wasn't worried about punishment from him, since his reiatsu were coiling lazily about him, displaying none of their aggression from earlier.

"Hmm, Aizen-taichō named you 'Sangre', right?" Ichimaru continued. "Then I think I shall name you 'Kōryū'."

Sangre blinked at him in equal parts bewilderment and alarm. When Aizen gave her a name, he became her master. She hoped Ichimaru didn't expect her to start treating him like Aizen just because he gave her a name.

"Ah, there's no need to look at me like that," said Ichimaru with an amused look. "I just don't think 'Sangre' suits you much, don't you agree?"

She had to admit that there was now some irony in her name, since Aizen had basically gave her that name expecting her to be bloodthirsty, but then gave her a spot in his Espada because she was capable of _not_ shedding blood in a fight.

It appeared that Ichimaru took her silence to mean acquiescence, because the next thing he said was, "Kōryū-kun it is!"

Sangre could only sigh. It wasn't as if the new name or nickname was unpleasant anyway.

"So, where have you been? You're more than four days late," was all she said. What she didn't say was that it appeared that arriving late was a bad habit of his, since the first time she met him, he was also late.

The Shinigami merely reached into his haori, and untied a tin can from his sash. He dangled the tin can in front of her with a wide grin, as if its existence explained everything.

"I got you your black paint, as promised."

Sangre stared at it with mild disbelief—she hadn't though he'd been serious when he offered to get it for her.

"This is where you thank me, Kōryū-kun," Ichimaru said, patronisingly.

She blinked. "Arigato-gozaimasu, Kitsune-taichō."

That only earned her hand ruffling her hair as if she were an obedient pet. She barely refrained from shooting the Shinigami a dark glare. She was tempted to tell him that tame Hollows were hard to find, and even they might bite when provoked. She had a feeling that if she did tell him, he'd only find it more amusing.

 _Damn Shinigami_ , she thought to herself, and Ichimaru laughed anyway, as if sensing her thoughts.

* * *

 **That's all for now, thanks for reading! Feel free to leave reviews/comments or PM me!**

 **Next chapter should be up by next Monday (or earlier if more time appears).**


	8. VIII: The Learning Experience

**Another short chapter, featuring Sangre figuring out her new life as an Arrancar.**

 **Disclaimer/Warnings: (No additions, see first chapter)**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight: The Learning Experience**

* * *

 _"A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory."_

* * *

When Sangre showed Jaegerjaquez the black paint and told him where she'd gotten it from, his expression was priceless

It started with disbelief, as if he thought she was just joking, then it changed to incredulousness, as if he were questioning her sanity when he realised she believed what she was saying, and finally it morphed into horror, when it occurred to him that such a scenario was actually plausible when he really thought about who he was talking to.

"Playing nice with a Shinigami is bad enough," he groaned. "But of all Shinigami, you had to try and befriend that creepy-ass bastard?"

Sangre sighed. "Jaegerjaquez," she said with exaggerated patience. "There are only three Shinigami here in Las Noche we can interact with. It's not like I had much of a choice. Surely you don't expect me to befriend _Aizen_ , and I still haven't seen the third Shinigami that everyone says exists."

"I don't know, couldn't you… _not_ befriend any Shinigami at all?"

"It's not entirely my fault, you know. Kitsune-taichō has taken interest in me. I can't avoid it—I could either play along or just roll over and I'm not rolling over to him."

"What the fuck did you do to gain his interest anyway? He's bad enough when he's just toying with everything that _moves_ , but you had to paint a target on your back?"

"I didn't do anything special, I just—"

"No, wait. Forget I asked," Jaegerjaquez interrupted, suddenly recalling how she got him to do something as ridiculous as repainting Las Noche.

Of course, that Shinigami would take an interest in her—she was practically the Arrancar version of himself. The main difference was that she didn't seem to have as much experience and power as the Shinigami. But she had something the Shinigami did not—a good disguise. It was obvious to anyone who ever met the snake that he was a snake, and a poisonous one at that. But for Sangre, she was, by all appearances, just a polite and friendly girl who seemed quite bad at being an Arrancar. If, on the off chance that the sky fell and the Shinigami were to _tutor_ Sangre—well, he wasn't going to think about it.

A few days after they began their painting expedition, they happened upon the Cuartro Espada who was walking across the hallway some distance ahead of them.

Sangre thought that the Arrancar desperately needed some sunshine in his life because… he didn't actually look like he was alive half of the time.

"If I could get away with it, I would pinch his cheeks," she announced to Jaegerjaquez, who made a strangled noise that sounded like a strange mix between a startled laugh and a frustrated groan.

"Why would you do that?" he asked.

"For fun," she said. "And because he's got such a long face. Not literally, of course, but that face! Don't you think it's just begging to be pinched or squished?"

Jaegerjaquez gave her an odd look. "No. And if you try to do anything to my cheeks, I will fucking end you."

Sangre merely grinned and said nothing. She may not be confident in taking on Ulquiorra, but she was sure she could defeat Jaegerjaquez if she tried.

* * *

The thing was, Jaegerjaquez was the guard dog she never thought she needed. It seemed like every time she left her room to anywhere else in Las Noche, without the accompaniment she would inevitably end up drawing unwanted attention from someone else.

For the most part, it was just Ulquiorra. Except that since it was Ulquiorra, it didn't feel like a 'just' to her. She was certain that if she weren't an Arrancar with a weapon, enhanced strength, speed and a strange ability to stop time for several seconds, she would have been terrified of Ulquiorra. As it was, she was mildly creeped out by how often he'd _appear in her peripheral vision like some ghost that was haunting her from a distance_.

"I don't care," Jaegerjaquez had said when she told him that Ulquiorra was stalking her. "If I got bothered every time some bastard showed an unhealthy interest in you, you'd be a blood stain on the wall by now."

" _Excuse me?_ "

"What? It only makes sense to get rid of the source of my troubles."

Sangre had then stared at the other Arrancar long enough for him to cough and say, "I could potentially turn you into a blood stain. It'll be hard, but not impossible."

"Tomorrow, we spar. Loser owes the winner a favour."

Jaegerjaquez had looked so torn between being pleased and horrified at the thought of fighting her, she almost laughed.

She won the fight by using her strange new technique the moment the spar began and knocked him out in the first two seconds.

* * *

The other annoyances that Sangre encountered when Jaegerjaquez wasn't around were his Fraccións. It appeared that ever since the day she disarmed Louisenbairn, they had gotten together, had a talk, and came up with the brilliant idea of challenging her to a five-on-one fight every other day.

One day, Jaegerjaquez came up to her and said, "If you knock them out the moment the fight begins, how the hell are they supposed to improve anything?"

Sangre took a while to process that.

"They told me to fight them, not train them!" She protested. "And anyway, they can always improve their reaction time. If they're faster, they could stop me from activating the technique in the first place."

The technique remained unnamed for some time, because she had no idea what it really was and the voice had not spoken to her again... Even when she kept pestering it to help her think of a name for the technique, because she was pretty sure it was partially responsible for it. After all, it was the one that taught her to change the appearance of her Zanpakutō.

She wanted to ask someone if it was normal to hear a voice in their mind teaching them how to use their Zanpakutō—a voice that may or may not belong to a weapon that should, by all means, be as sentient as the remnants of her Hollow mask, but it sounded weird to her even when she just thought about it, and she didn't want Aizen catching wind of this.

If it was indeed something that was uncommon, she was sure Aizen would take an even larger interest in her, and that was the last thing she wanted.

* * *

The next annoyance that popped up when Jaegerjaquez wasn't around was Nnoitra Gilga. The long and lanky Arrancar with the eyepatch who didn't seem to like her more than the average Arrancar, for reasons she was not privy to. She'd defeated Jaegerjaquez and his Fraccións, but while they were naturally upset about it, and spent an unnecessary amount of time licking their wounded pride, they didn't seem to _detest_ her. Neither did Neliel whom she also managed to beat—just barely, because that Aries-personified was _fast_ —but then again, Neliel was a nice person in general.

Nnoitra, however, seemed to hate her as much as he hated Neliel. At first, she assumed it was because there was some history between the two of them, but now, when it became clear that she was as much of an eyesore to him as Neliel was, she began to wonder if it wasn't just because of a much simpler reason.

"We meet again, little maggot."

Sangre found out that in Hueco Mundo, 'maggot' was a common insult, simply because many of the Hollows that were higher up the evolution ladder were mostly white. 'Termite' was another favourite.

"A little girl like you doesn't deserve that number you wear. Today, I'm going to tear you down and we'll see who deserves their number more."

Sangre did not use that technique when she went up against Nnoitra for the second time. She did not feel the need to, and she had this urge, in the face of all his loathing, to toy with him.

"You know," she said conversationally, as she spun and avoided another swing of his scythe. "Despite the fact that you've got a longer body and longer limbs, your reach seems kinda short."

It was also during this fight that she actually learned something from Nnoitra.

The thing was, what Nnoitra lacked in agility and power, he made up with pure bloodthirstiness. He wasn't entirely unskilled either, and compared to Sangre, who hadn't really had much experience in wielding any weapon before becoming an Arrancar, he was an unpredictable berserker of an opponent.

Sangre could afford to go easy on him simply because she was a lot faster than he was, and her smaller and lighter build made it easier to change momentum and do a number of dance-like moves or acrobatics that were all instinct and zero prior experience or knowledge.

In a fight between the one who was naturally stronger and the one with more experience, it was inevitable that there was once when his scythe managed to touch her.

Nnoitra had changed the direction of his strike mid-swing, having anticipated the direction she would dodge, and only her natural agility prevented her from literally losing her head. As it was, she felt the sharp edge of the scythe hit her shoulder. She thought she was going to lose her arm, but she did not lose anything.

"Tch. Don't get cocky just because you blocked my blade," Nnoitra said, lifting his scythe in preparation for another attempt. "I've got you once now, I'll get you next time too. And next time, I'll cut through your hierro."

Sangre wondered if it was possible to call for a timeout in the middle of a fight.

"What's hierro?" She called out anyway, narrowly jumping out of the way of his next strike. His blade sliced a rock cleanly into half, and not for the first time, Sangre admitted that she was one lucky Hollow.

"You don't even know what hierro is?" Nnoitra yelled back with a mocking laugh.

"How would I know what it is? Nobody teaches me this stuff!" She returned, diving out of the way of his haphazard scythe-swinging.

Surprisingly, that made the crazy eyepatch maniac stopped his attacks and propped his scythe up beside him. He was still wearing that wide sneer with too much teeth.

"You know, you're such an inexperienced nymph, I shall be generous today," he said. "Now, you get one chance to strike at me. If I predict it'll be a serious injury, I will stop you. But if I find it acceptable, you will get the opportunity to draw blood."

She stared at him like he had really gone mad. If she wanted, she could kill him without him having the time to stop her. From her previous trainings with Jaegerjaquez and his Fraccións, she discovered that she couldn't use cero or sonído while time is 'frozen' around her, but any physical attacked worked. And one thing she learned even before becoming a Hollow was how it easy it actually was to kill a person with just one's bare hands.

"Okay," she said, not voicing her doubts at his ability to survive whatever she tried. It seemed like he wanted to show her something, and it had to do with 'hierro' and the fact that his blade hadn't cut her. Playing along seemed to be in her best interest for now.

Sangre lifted her glaive, took one step forward, charged it with reiryoku and launched it at his right shoulder, automatically using sonído to leap out of striking range. The pole-arm struck his shoulder and glanced off it, leaving nothing but a small scratch.

"You—Do you normally enhance your blade with reiryoku?" Nnoitra demanded, staring at the scratch.

She nodded. "Otherwise my blade's too blunt to cut anything."

And watched as he picked up her weapon—now somewhat sympathising with Louisenbairn because having one's Zanpakutō in the hands of another was _not_ a pleasant feeling—and used the edge of its blade to slice off a part of the cuff of his sleeve.

"Did you ever try to use it to cut anything that wasn't an Arrancar's skin?" He demanded, showing her the clean cut. A fine scissors would have not done much better than that.

Sangre made a face. "So… we have… extra thick skin? Is that what hierro is?"

Nnoitra looked at her like she was an alien from another planet, then angrily threw his scythe at her in response.

The fight ended a minute later, when Sangre decided she had better things to do, such as hunt down someone less inclined to fight to explain to her some Spanish terminology.

"How can you not know what hierro if you know what sonído and cero are?" Jaegerjaquez demanded later that day.

"Cero we learned when we were Adjuchas," she reminded him. "And Kitsune-taichō was the one who told me what sonído was."

Jaegerjaquez scowled at her mention of Ichimaru but did not otherwise comment about it.

"I take it you do not know what pesquisa is either?" He said.

Her confused smile answered it all. "Is that a type of fish?"

"No, it's not a fucking _fish_ ," Jaegerjaquez growled. "Pesquisa is a technique you can use to locate and determine the level reiatsu of others around you. It sorta works like using reiryoku to expand your field of perception."

"Um, is that any different from normal reiatsu-sensing?"

"Of course! It's a higher-level technique! See, normally, you can only detect reiatsu from a distance if its really strong or if you're very familiar with it. But with pesquisa, you can sense the reiatsu of anyone within a certain radius of you. And if you're good enough, you can also find out how much reiryoku they have."

When Sangre appeared deep in thought, her mind casting back to whether she had used such a technique before, Jaegerjaquez poked the small furrow that had begun to appear between her brows.

"Why don't we give it a try. Can you tell where's Neliel, right now?"

Sangre blinked, looked in the direction she could sense her reiatsu from, and guessed, "Seems like she's in her quarters."

"And my Fraccións?"

"… Right outside my bedroom door."

"Who else can you sense?"

"Well, there's the pink-haired guy who's still in the labs. Ulquiorra is near the temporary quarters—I swear he's stalking me. In his direction, further away, there's the Arrancar in charge of the uniforms. Then there's Ichimaru somewhere in that direction with Aizen and a third guy whom I assume must be Tōsen. There are two new Arrancars with them. Hmm, and—"

"Wait, stop," Jaegerjaquez interrupted. "How often do you do this? Because it makes no fucking sense otherwise."

"Eh, pardon?"

"How often do you try and sense the reiatsu of the Arrancars around you?" He elaborated.

"Oh, when I'm outside my room, all the time," said Sangre. "How else do I not get lost in this huge place? And its useful when trying to avoid Arrancars who are actively out to hunt me down."

She patiently waited for Jaegejaquez to stop blinking.

"Ah, anyway, that's pesquisa that you've been doing. Now, hierro. What do you know about it?"

Sangre rested her glaive on her lap and ran a hand over its blade. As she expected, her skin did not break and bleed.

"It's the reason why this happens," she said, holding up her unwounded palm. "And the reason why even though I sharpen the blade with reiryoku, it only gave Nnoitra a scratch instead of a hole in his shoulder."

She realised too late what she said.

"Nnoitra? Did you fight him again today?" Jaegerjaquez demanded, then growled when she nodded sheepishly. "And I didn't get to see it. Again. _Why_."

"Next time he shows up to challenge me, I could notify you?" She suggested. "Would a flare of reiatsu be good?"

Again, Jaegerjaquez gave her a Look. "Are you being stupid on purpose? If you flare your reiatsu, I think Nnoitra will faint before I reach."

"He's not _that_ weak. In fact, I think I need to train more now," said Sangre. "Anyway, hierro?"

"… Right. Hierro. It means 'iron', and it's basically done by condensing reiryoku in your skin to harden it. It's a natural thing we all seem to do to a certain extent, but you can strengthen it with more concentration and practice. Of course, you'll be limited by your own level of reiryoku."

"So… my blade isn't actually blunt," she concluded happily.

"No, it fucking isn't. Serpiente, were you _dropped_ when you were born?"

"I don't remember, but who knows, maybe something went wrong when Aizen turned me into an Arrancar."

"I'll accept that."

"When anything goes wrong, blame the Shinigami?"

"Yes, of course," said Jaegerjaquez.

"Sounds good," Sangre agreed, and smirked. "Sounds about right, in fact."

Ichimaru was very amused but somewhat confused when he saw Sangre spending the rest of the week grinning to herself.

* * *

 **That's all for now! Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave comments and reviews, or PM me if you want it to be private!**

 **P.S. Since the end of my school term is nearing, I will be getting busier and will be unable to update for the next two weeks. But no worries, I'll be back again with the next chapter by 21st April!**


	9. IX: Company

**Aaand... I'm back! Thanks for waiting!**

 **Disclaimer/Warnings: (No additions, see first chapter)**

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Company**

* * *

 _"There's a fine line between cuddling and holding someone down so they can't get away."_

* * *

When all the rooms in the Números residence (so called because it was occupied by those who weren't Espada, Fraccións or some other assigned role) had been repainted, courtesy of two Espada and five Números, the newly self-appointed interior designers moved on to the other buildings of Las Noche. That was how Nelliel found her two fellow Espada in the midst of throwing cans of paint at one another like bombs.

Then she saw Sangre flick her finger at one of the flying cans, a ripple of air expanding from the tip of her finger like a bubble of colourless energy and—the entire paint can exploded.

"Fuck you!" Jaegerjaquez hollered. He was now completely covered in a brilliant hue of electric blue. Nelliel wasn't even sure where they found such a colour from.

"The colour suits you!" Sangre yelled back as she knocked away a gigantic paintbrush-projectile with a paint-roller stick.

Jaegerjaquez's Fraccións were studiously ignoring the Espada and painting the dungeon cell a bright sunny yellow. Splatters of other colours could be found on every surface of the cell.

"Um, Sen-chan?"

Sangre turned and greeted her with a big grin. "Neru-chan! Wanna join us?"

Nelliel looked from the girl's purple-stained hair and yellow-stained hands, and the green streaks all over her, and shook her head.

"No thanks," she said. "I've actually just come here to inform you that I've finally gotten myself a couple of Fracción."

"Oh? Congrats!" Sangre clapped her hands. "They're the two new Arrancars, right?"

"Yeah, let me introduce you to them! I figured it would be better if they got to know another Espada well," said Nelliel, turning to the door. "Pesche, Dondochakka!"

Two Arrancars peeked in. One of them waved. Sangre waved back. Jaegerjaquez merely scowled.

"Hi, I'm Sangre Aporruon," she said. The two Arrancars bowed comically.

"We're Neru-sama's Fraccións. I'm Pesche Guatiche," said one of them.

"Dondochakka Birstanne," said the other.

"Dondochakka?" Jaegerjaquez snorted. "What kind of—"

He froze when Sangre turned to beam at him, her looming reiatsu at odds with the sugary sweet expression on her face. He swallowed the rest of his insult.

"Anyway, welcome to Las Noche!" said Sangre turning back to the two new Arrancars. "I've only been here for less than two weeks but if you need anything and you can't find Neru-chan, you're welcome to find me."

" _Hai, senpai!_ " chorused the two Arrancars.

Sangre blinked and came to the realisation that being called 'senpai' felt surprisingly good. 'Surprisingly', because it wasn't as if her juniors in school hadn't ever called her that before. It was likely a Hollow thing, or more specifically, a pride thing she didn't really have until she became a Hollow. Or it could be a result of the contrast risen from how many other Arrancars still tend to treat her like a strange insect—something to be studied or swatted away—despite the fact that the number 2 was clearly branded on her cheek for everyone to see, not hidden away like the 8 on Nnoitra's tongue or the 3 on Nelliel's back.

"Don't even think of asking me to babysit your Fraccións. I ain't Sangre," Jaegerjaquez spoke up before anyone said anything else.

Nelliel gave him an amused smile. "I wouldn't dream of it, Grimmjow."

* * *

If Jaegerjaquez thought that would get him out of having to interact with Nelliel's Fraccións, he soon found out how wrong he was.

Whenever the two of them were bored and Nelliel was doing something else, such as taking a nap, they would go looking for Sangre. By the end of the week, they had joined in the repainting of Las Noche, much to Jaegerjaquez and his Fracción's displeasure. They were often so goofy and dramatic, that the Sexta could not help but cringe inwardly every time he saw them.

It was worse when Sangre was doing her own things and did not want to be disturbed, because that was when she would hide out somewhere—not necessarily in her room or the library—with her reiatsu suppressed so low, probably only Aizen could find her.

(Or possibly his two subordinates as well—one never knew with those infuriatingly mysterious Shinigami. Jaegerjaquez would never tell anyone, but he was glad to know that most Shinigami were not of the level of those three. After all, the Arrancar were developed to surpass the Shinigami.)

The thing was, when Sangre hid, and Nelliel was busy, those two Fraccións would look for Jaegerjaquez instead, as if _he_ knew where Sangre might be. And no matter how much he just wanted to cero their asses away, he knew that it would just piss off Sangre and he wasn't foolish enough to purposefully incite the wrath of a dragon who would make a better ally than an enemy.

It was incredibly frustrating, but there was nothing he could do about it except train harder.

Sangre might not behave like a Segunda, nor did she always believe she deserved the title, but Jaegerjaquez knew, after his first fight with her since becoming an Arrancar, that she was way out his league that it was almost embarrassing. Almost, because she basically beat everyone else she fought with as well, so it was _normal_ to lose.

Which was why Jaegerjaquez was going to beat her someday—he wasn't going to settle for normal—he wanted to be king, and a king wasn't _normal_.

* * *

"Why don't you get some Fraccións of your own?" Jaegerjaquez asked from where he was lounging.

Sangre looked over and grinned to herself. He looked like a large cat basking in the sun—except that there was no sun, just a large moon in the sky.

"Fraccóns?" said Sangre as she painted neon-green stripes onto Yylfordt's helmet. All of Jaegerjaquez's Fraccións were lying on the ground, having been knocked out by Sangre in a spar ten minutes ago.

"Yeah, you keep playing with mine and Nelliel's," Jaegerjaquez said with a scowl. "Why don't you get your own?"

"Why would I?" Sangre replied with an innocent smile. "When I have yours and Neru-chan's to play with?"

* * *

But Jaegerjaquez's words got her thinking, and she realised it would be nice to have a companion aside from her two Espada friends and their Fracción. A companion that would be more loyal to her than anyone else.

There were very few fiction books in the library—less than ten—but despite that, there were three in total that had characters with companions, be it a side-kick, their horse, or a faithful servant. So Sangre decided she would go see Aizen about getting a Fracción of her own.

With this in mind, she left the newly re-painted library, which had taken a lot longer than expected, mostly because many of the shelves and books had to be shifted out of the way to do a proper paint job.

After returning cleaning herself at the common bathroom (there was one on every floor of the he first thing she did was to try using Pesquisa, this time on purpose, because the scanning she consistently did in the background of her mind turned up nothing. But a more focused Pesquisa did not help either, since it only informed her that there were three Shinigami somewhere Las Noche but the location she tried to identify was incredibly vague.

She ended up systematically visiting every throne room she knew that was in the approximate direction she could sense the Shinigami reiatsu from, but he was in none of them.

"Kōryū-kun!"

Sangre suppressed her instinctual urge to spin around and whip out her glaive, and opted to turn with a calmness she did not actually possess. She greeted Ichimaru Gin with a polite smile.

"Kitsune-taichō," she said, internally cursing the Shinigami for his ability to catch her by surprise. Sure, she enjoyed doing that to other people—read: Jaegerjaquez and his Fracciōns—but it was less fun when _she_ was on the receiving end of a heart attack.

Ichimaru grinned like he knew he had surprised her. Or he could just be grinning because his face was just stuck like that.

"What are ya up to?" He asked. "Lookin' for Aizen-taichō?"

Sangre nodded. "I'd like to take a look at the new Arrancars. I'm considering getting a Fracción or two."

"Oh? I think Kōryū-kun will be disappointed," said Ichimaru, as he began to walk down the corridor. She took it as a cue to follow along.

"Why? How many are there?"

"Three," said Ichimaru. "Number 39, 40 and 43. Ah, they're all very interesting, y'know."

Sangre would like to say that he warned her with a smile, except that… He smiled all the time, didn't he?

* * *

Aizen was with the three newer Arrancars in a smaller meeting room, delegating temporary tasks for them to do to keep them occupied. Menial tasks such as clean all the corridors in a particular block or helping the architects with carrying things around. The most appealing option appeared to be helping the chefs out with hunting for more meat.

Sangre was immensely glad that she had been promoted so quickly, she had avoided having to do such jobs. However, she was less pleased by the three other Arrancars in the room. Two of them—both female and slightly taller than her—were frowning at her for some reason, while the third was none other than Ulquiorra, who was standing in a corner simply watching in silence. It was the fourth time she had seen him that day. Coincidence? Unlikely.

"Sangre," Aizen greeted her pleasantly. She did not trust his geniality one bit.

"Aizen-sama," she greeted in return, bowing slightly.

"She's looking for a Fracción," Ichimaru quipped from behind her.

While the two Shinigami conversed, Sangre surveyed the three new Arrancars. The shortest one was a guy, though he was still taller than her by at least half a head or more, and he was lanky with hair that off-white—more like the colour of ivory. The tallest one was also a guy, average in proportion compared to Nnoitra, and while he had the most ordinary hair out of the lot—yellowish-brown—his eyes were orange. Not amber or golden or red, but orange. The last one was a girl who looked to be slightly older than she was, with magenta hair and salmon-pink eyes.

"Are there any particular traits you would like your Fracción to have?" said Aizen. Sangre wasn't sure if it was her biasness against him, but she thought that at that moment, he sounded like he was a salesman, except Arrancars weren't just… things?

"Skills or interests or other characteristics," Ichimaru elaborated.

She looked from both their smiling faces to the Arrancars, all of whom had a face of if-I-have-to-do-another-chore-I'm-going-to-kill-someone.

"If you had the ability to kill anybody, right now, who would you kill?" She asked the three, deciding that it would be best to find out from the start which of them would be the least troublesome.

"I forgot his name," said the orange-eyed guy. "That number 38."

Number 38, Sangre recalled, was the pink-haired Arrancar who arrived within just a few hours after she did.

"Grimmjow," said the magenta-haired girl automatically, then after a beat, "-sama." _That bastard_ , went unsaid, but Sangre thought she heard it anyway.

Sangre had no problems with anyone out for Grimmjow, since she was pretty sure he likely did something to deserve it half the time, and the other half of the time, well, he could handle himself well enough anyway. However, having a Fracción with a grudge against Grimmjow probably wasn't going to end well.

"The Chefs," said the ivory-haired guy. "I'm pretty sure they're trying to poison me."

This caused her to hear a soft cough coming from the direction of Ichimaru, but Sangre just lamented that none of the Arrancars had hesitated even half a second in their answers. And when she looked at all of them in the eye, she had a feeling they were all being honest. Whereas if she had asked Grimmjow the same question, he would no doubt have hesitated with the name of a Shinigami on the tip of his tongue.

"Okay," she said with a sigh. "You two, are you guys fine with Nelliel and Jaegerjaquez-san and their Fraccións?"

'Jaegerjaquez-san?' one of them—the possibly paranoid ivory-haired Arrancar—mouthed with some bemusement.

"Grimmjow and his Fracción are okay, I guess," said the other one. "But Nelliel's Fraccións are just…" He scrunched up his face. "They're not… Fuck, they just ain't cool, you know?"

Sangre did not know, so she simply turned to Ivory-Hair. He looked at her like she was a different species altogether.

"Are you kidding? Grimmjow could tear me apart with his bare hands!"

She felt her face twitch, and it was only then that Ivory-Hair faltered as he was suddenly reminded that she was an Espada as well. For a moment, she wondered if she should mention that she _could_ probably tear him apart with her bare hands too—probably, because she had only ever torn Hollows apart as an Adjuchas but not as an Arrancar, not yet. Then she decided against it and turned to look back at the Shinigami. Both of them looked far more amused than they should.

"I did say they were interesting," said Ichimaru.

Sangre sighed, then bobbed a little in Aizen's direction once more.

"None of them suits me," she said to him. "I'll just… take my leave?"

Aizen nodded, dismissing her, and she left the room with Ichimaru trailing after her.

"I could let ya know if we get an Arrancar that suits ya," he said. Sangre gave him a side-ways glance.

"And you somehow know who would suit me after spending…" She paused, mentally adding up the times they've interacted so far. "… Less than three days with me?"

"Mah~ I predicted you'd be disappointed with this lot, didn't I?" He said. And he was right.

"Fine, I'll be counting on you then, Kitsune-taichō," Sangre said. Ichimaru merely grinned in return, most definitely catching the doubt still lingering in her voice. She didn't mind it either, letting him know that she didn't fully trust him, even though he hasn't actually done anything to gain her distrust yet… Not counting That Night and all the conspiracy possibilities attached to it. (No, she wasn't still resentful about it. She wasn't holding a grudge. She was just a little… peeved, and rightly so, she thought. Now, Aizen, on the other hand…)

* * *

The next few places the Painting Team tackled were Nnoitra's and Jaegerjaquez's residences. (Sangre considered repainting the science labs, but one look at the noxious substances that Pink-Hair kept in there and she decided she didn't want to accidentally set off an explosion in the event that paint, paint fumes and lab chemicals turned into a volatile combination).

Nnoitra's place was small. Not that it was cramp or anything—it was just that Sangre kept expecting to see double-height ceilings and cavernous dungeons and a series of many confusing rooms. But instead, his place was actually quite ordinary. There were two floors, with a few spacious rooms but that was about it.

It was simply a matter of knocking out the Arrancar who had been in the room at the time, before mass painting all the walls pink and purple with splotches of white. Sangre had been reliably informed that Nnoitra's Hollow-spirit-animal was a mantis, and had drawn inspiration from the orchids that flower mantises were often found in.

Between two Espada—one of whom could repeatedly use a time-freezing technique—and five Arrancars, they finished Nnoitra's residence within an hour.

Jaegerjaquez's residence took longer, because his place was exactly how Sangre thought it should be—unnecessarily large and ridiculously complicated. It was as if he had taken the effort to push the architects to their limits and requested for a place that was specifically designed to annoy them. There were sweeping arches and complex curvatures and random sculptural details and mezzanine levels that connected in such a way that there was no fixed floor.

"I love this place," she said, not for the first time. Jaegerjaquez visited her more often than the other way around, but she had entered this place at least two times before, and each time she was just amazed by how surreal the place looked. It was like the more realistic version of an M.C. Esher art piece.

"This is gonna be a pain to repaint," said Jaegerjaquez.

"Then we better get started if we want to finish by supper time," said Sangre, hefting up a huge bucket of blue paint.

"How am I supposed to sleep here tonight?" He demanded, eyeing the bucket warily, knowing that she could totally empty the entirety of it over his head if she wanted to.

"Nnoitra slept fine in his room," she replied dismissively.

"Nnoitra was unconscious! And I wouldn't call that fine… You left him in a bathtub filled with what's that eye-watering colour?"

"Fuchsia."

"Yes, fuchsia paint."

"Hey, at least I saved his Zanpakutō from the same fate."

"No, you stole it and replaced it with a gigantic fork—"

"Trident."

"Fine, trident. Where did you even find that thing from?"

"So, you're telling me you're _against_ pranking him?"

"No! I'm reminding you that with that bastard, it was a prank and that this, _this_ is differ—" Jaegerjaquez cut himself short when he saw the gleam in Sangre's single red eye. He was beyond horrified when she smirked. It was second nature to draw his sword in the face of that.

"Oh, no. No, no, I'll kill you, don't you dare. I swear I'll fucking feed you your own intestines if you—"

Sangre froze time and knocked him out. His Fraccións stood to one side, looking like they were torn between moving towards their fallen master and fleeing the room. She turned and smiled cheerily at them.

"You can either choose to cooperate," she said, pausing for effect and nodding in the direction of the Arrancar crumpled on the floor. "Or not."

In the end, Sangre thought she was rather merciful, as she didn't leave him in a bathtub of cyan paint as she had actually considered doing. His residence was also repainted rather decently, in bands of foam white, pale turquoise, azure, smoky blue, ultramarine, teal, and black.

Jaegerjaquez later regained consciousness in one of his Fracción's rooms with every area of exposed skin painted white with aquamarine stripes.

"Sangre says it's for camouflage," said Edrad as he watched the Espada attempt to scrub off the paint which was starting to seem to be some sort of long-lasting dye. Jaegerjaquez threw his Fracción a dirty look, because they both knew he was neither a tiger, nor did he actually require camouflage paint, let alone paint of those colours which were definitely not meant for camouflage.

* * *

A few days later, after having finished painting the Fraccións' quarters—extra rooms attached to the main rooms belonging to their masters, Sangre was relaxing in her room, thinking up colour schemes for the other places in Las Noche—apple colours for Nelliel, for example, rosy pink and fresh green and golden yellow—when there was a knock on the door. But before she could get up, the door opened by itself and a grinning face appeared like the mask of a spirit in the gloom of the dimly lit corridor outside.

"Kōryū-kun," said the Shinigami. "Still awake at this hour?"

"It's perpetually night here," she replied, even though she knew what he meant. The only way to tell the time so far was from the position of the moon in the sky. "Perhaps we should invest in some clocks."

"Perhaps," Ichimaru agreed amiably, letting himself in. Sangre paused in her absent-minded stabbing of the marshmallows in her mug of hot chocolate—a drink she suspected might have been imported from Soul Society. She wondered if there was any point in reminding him that it was rude to enter someone else's private space without permission, even more so since they were of different genders.

"Ne, what are ya thinkin' about?"

Sangre turned to see his smirking face far too close for comfort, twirling a tiny fork—her tiny fork—in his hand. Looking into her mug, she was horrified to notice that he had somehow stolen all her marshmallows while her attention had wandered.

"I was thinking about how being a Shinigami seems to come with the prerequisite of being rude," she retorted, snatching her fork back. "Those were _my_ marshmallows."

"Careful, Kōryū-kun," said Ichimaru. "One might think you were accusing Aizen-taichō of being rude."

She gave him a flat look, and the grin he sent back made it clear he knew she _was_ including Aizen into her generalisation, though they both also knew that almost everyone in Las Noche were far from polite.

"Please don't tell me—" Sangre paused, struck by the thought that phrased that way, the Shinigami might actually choose to do the exact opposite, so changed tack: "I didn't even you in to steal my marshmallows. Actually, I didn't invite you in at all."

"Aww, but I was doing you a favour! They were gettin' soggy and you weren't eatin' them," Ichimaru protested. Naturally, he failed at conveying any expression of sincerity, since he was still grinning too widely. (Sometimes, she wondered if he was even capable of appearing sincere).

Sangre sighed, leaned back and decided to ignore him in favour of continuing planning schemes, deciding it was probably easier than trying to keep up with Ichimaru… Who realised she wasn't going to bother with him and waved a hand in front of her face.

"Hey, hey, y'know, I actually came here with some good news," he said.

"Yeah? You mean aside from the fact that my marshmallows would have drowned in chocolate without your timely intervention?"

"Are you gonna hold a grudge over that?" Ichimaru chuckled. Sangre scowled at him.

"This ain't Soul Society or wherever it is you live in. Marshmallows are a _luxury_. We can't produce it here in Hueco Mundo, so where do we get it from? From the very place you visit every other day."

Ichimaru looked at her and she stared back. Then he said, "You're not actually that upset over _marshmallows_ , right?"

Sangre was not actually that upset over marshmallows. Imported or not, she currently had a store of them along with a store of chocolate mix, courtesy of the kitchen staff, who paid her in food whenever she hunted down a particular Hollow for them. She wasn't sure if different Hollows actually tasted different, because when she was an Adjuchas, they had all tasted the same, but the Chefs seem to think there was a difference.

But she still put on her most serious look and said, "I won't be, if you compensate me for the marshmallows you stole."

"Hey, I'm already doing you a favour here," said Ichimaru, and before she could interrupt with another quip about saving her marshmallows, he quickly continued, "I told you I would inform you when we get a new Arrancar, right?"

Sangre blinked, turned the words around in her mind along with the fact that Ichimaru Gin had actually _stopped_ her from extending their conversation with pointless arguments.

"Was Aizen-sama expecting me to have arrived… say, five minutes ago?"

The look on Ichimaru's face was enough to get her bolting out of her room with him laughing as he followed her.

* * *

"What are those… things?" Jaegerjaquez asked.

They were repainting Starrk's residence that day, with permission from Lilynette, since Starrk himself was still sleeping in one of the many lounges he had. Sangre looked at what he was pointing at.

"Oh, they're my Fracción," she said blithely, which garnered her an incredulous look.

" _Serpiente_ , they look like hyenas!"

Sangre pretended to give Apsithia and Artemisia a second look-over. The twins were happily making a mess on the walls with a paintbrush in each sharp-toothed mouth. Then she turned back to Jaegerjaquez.

"Your point being?"

"They ain't fucking human!"

"We're not human either, Jaegerjaquez."

Jaegerjaquez gaped at her. "But… But they look nothing close to humanoid! Where did you even get them from?"

He was right, of course. Apsithia and Artemisia were both animal Arrancars, like that dog that Sangre sometimes saw following Llargo around. The twins had short lithe bodies with long necks, short tails and short black fur with golden markings, large ears and large white skull-masks covering the top half of their heads. Glowing golden eyes shone from the darkness of their eye sockets. The numbers 43 and 44 were imprinted on their foreheads, and their Hollow-holes were found right in the middle of their torso, slightly lower than where their hearts should actually be.

They were unusual, to be sure, and it made Sangre wonder how they came to have a pair of hyena-Arrancars in the first place. While animal-Hollows were uncommon, they weren't rare either, but the chances of Aizen finding a pair of hyena ones and turning them into Arrancars was even lower.

Artemisia turned from her green-splattered handiwork and gave Sangre a toothy grin. Then again, she found that the two of them looked like they were always grinning due to the shape of their unnaturally large mouths. At this point, Sangre wouldn't be surprised if Ichimaru had taken one look at them and thought they would make a wonderful addition to the Arrancar family if only for their natural expressions of promised chaos.

"Aizen introduced them to me, though I think it was Kitsune-taichō's idea," she said to Jaegerjaquez. "I even got to name them!"

He did not look impressed. "Are you sure they aren't just your new weird-ass pets?"

Sangre raised an eyebrow, then grinned. She turned to the hyena twins and said, "Hey, did you know, Jaegerjaquez called you guys 'weird-ass pets'!"

As one, the hyena Arrancars dropped their paintbrushes and in a single leap, tackled the Espada to the ground, earning them a strangled curse.

"They're smart enough to understand human speech, Jaegerjaquez. In fact, I daresay they're as smart as monkeys," Sangre laughed. "I wouldn't insult them again by calling them 'pets' if I were you."

She left the former-panther Arrancar buried under the pair of large snickering creatures. She knew Jaegerjaquez would be fine—he was an Espada, after all—and she also knew her new companions would be fine, since Jaegerjaquez should know better than to seriously harm either of them.

Then Lilynette came bursting in, and upon seeing the dogpile, launched herself onto them with a loud whoop.

Sangre grinned to herself even as Jaegerjaquez began cursing the added weight, likely just for the sake of cursing, since Lilynette herself didn't weigh a lot. She might find Aizen abhorrent, but life here at Las Noche was good.

* * *

 **That's all for now! Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave comments and reviews, or PM me if you want it to be private!**

 **Next chapter to be up by 30th April!**

 **(Tidbits: Why hyenas? Because they're really intelligent social creatures with a hierarchy system and are supposed to be able to produce weird laughing sounds which I thought would suit Sangre.)**

 **(Why those names? Both names are Latin/Greek for a plant commonly called wormwood... which is actually because I had a fascination with the biblical apocalypse - See: the etymology for Sangre's last name at the end of Chapter Four).**


	10. X: Red Hands

**Sorry for the wait! Here's the chapter. It's a little short, because it was longer, and I decided to split it into two chapters, since I haven't started on the next one yet, which will take a while, so I'll post the second half of this later so you don't have to wait so long between chapters.**

 **Anyway, here we have the wheels starting to turn. Hope you enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer/Warnings: (No additions, see first chapter)**

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Red Hands**

* * *

 _"A diplomat is someone who can tell you to go to hell in such a way that you will look forward to the trip."_

* * *

The Shinigami never stayed in Las Noche for long, possibly due to the fact that they were Shinigami and therefore had Shinigami duties to attend to. Their visits to Las Noche were sometimes as frequent as a few hours daily, and other times as scarce as an hour in one week. But despite the fact that they never stayed for longer than a day at a time, they had their own quarters built in Las Noche.

Sangre had never been there, as Ichimaru had not introduced her to it during her orientation. Perhaps there was an unspoken rule that Arrancars should not enter the Shinigami's residence—Sangre was not sure. She did try asking her friends, but they weren't sure either. But they—and later, she—knew of its existence, though they did not know where it was located.

Still, it came as a surprise when Ichimaru came looking for her one day, when she was browsing through her plans for the unpainted parts of Las Noche and trying to decide if repainting Ulquiorra's place was worth the risk or not—she knew Jaegerjaquez would be delighted to try, but she also knew that he was sometimes foolishly reckless when it came to certain people when he _thought_ he could get away with it. As the one in-charge of the whole operation, it fell to her to prevent him from doing something like repainting one of Aizen's throne room fluorescent orange, just because the Shinigami was absent.

As it was, Nnoitra was entirely purple when Ichimaru dropped by Las Noche, even though she had overheard them talking about whether it was fine to leave Las Noche for a week without supervision due to some captain duties of theirs.

(The dye she had used on Nnoitra was one that could seep through hierro and would not become visible until it had been fully absorbed into the body and had circulated a few times in their bloodstream, courtesy of Pink Hair and one of his failed experiments that Sangre suspected was supposed to work as a slow-acting poison.)

"Konnichiwa, Kōryū-kun~"

Sangre looked up from her sketch of Ulquiorra's living room, which she supposed she shouldn't be able to produce but considering how much he seemed to be stalking her, it seemed only fair for her to scout him out as well.

"Kitsune-taichō," she greeted him warily. There was something about him today that put her on edge. It could be the fact that his reiatsu felt like snakes that had found a potential meal, something she had not experienced directed at her before.

"Las Noche is lookin' pretty colourful these days," he said, fox-face a perfect grinning mask. "Have ya seen Nnoitra?"

Unwilling to confirm anything, even if it was Ichimaru and not Aizen, Sangre replied dryly, "Have you seen Jaegerjaquez-san's hair? Or Neru-chan's? Or Ulquiorra's face? Or Cirucci's hair _and_ face? How about _my_ hair?"

 _If this place weren't a delinquent centre full of soul-eaters_ , Sangre thought with a mental grimace. _We could be a circus._

"Your hair is… fiery," Ichimaru said, for the very first time sounding somewhat uncertain. It was as if he still wasn't sure if he needed his eyesight corrected. (Perhaps he did, considering how he squinted all the time).

"Yeah, I didn't like the previous colour, so I just dyed all the greenish parts red and orange," said Sangre. "It washes off after a few days though. Last week, I tried dyeing the golden parts blue, to get turquoise, but it didn't quite work out. You weren't here to see it though."

"Then you should do it again next time when I'm around," said Ichimaru, as if she'd try to dye her hair wrong again.

"Why do we even have such strange hair colour?" said Sangre, grimacing. "Did Aizen-sama colour our hair to make up for the lack of colour in this place?"

Ichimaru chuckled. "It's common knowledge that the souls of individuals with high reiatsu levels tend to manifest certain traits representative of their reiryoku. These traits could be a specific hair length or colour, pupil shape, eye colour or markings on the skin. Some are born with it, others develop them later on due to an… evolution in their spirit, while others only manifest them when certain states of release are activated—that would be Bankai for Shinigami and Resurrección for you."

Sangre stared blankly back at him. "Common knowledge? Why does everyone always assume I know things? Is there a school I missed? Is there such a thing as Primary education for Hollows?"

The Shinigami looked way too amused for her liking. "We have a Shinō Spiritual Arts Academy, but I suppose that's only for those in Soul Society aiming to become Shinigami."

"You _suppose_?" Sangre was incredulous.

"Well, I believe we have strayed away from the original topic," was all Ichimaru had to say.

"What was the original topic?" She asked cautiously, because friendly discussion aside, his reiatsu was still a little unnerving, like the feeling a cold hand resting on her nape. She could ignore it for the most part, but she wasn't sure if she should.

"My rooms are plain white."

Sangre blinked. "Pardon?"

"That is to say, when do I get the honour of having my place repainted by our very own resident artist?" The Shinigami's face was now way too near for comfort.

She leaned away from him as she held herself back from pointing out that while the colour schemes were all decided by her, the paint job itself was not done by her alone.

"Why are you asking me? I'm not one of the architects of Las Noche," she said. Only previous winding conversations with Ichimaru kept her treating him like Aizen, because as counterintuitive as it seemed, experience told her that she had a higher chance of getting away from Ichimaru alive _and_ sane if she _didn't_ simply submit to him and his words.

"Nnoitra seemed very sure it was you who knocked him out and 'humiliate' him, to use his own word," said Ichimaru serenely. "So Kōryū-kun is the likeliest candidate aside from Lilynette, considering your rank and personality."

Sangre considered the Shinigami and could not help but think that if the white colour of Las Noche suited anyone, it would be him, except perhaps with the addition of silver and a pale colour—mint or periwinkle or lavender?

"What exactly are you expecting from me?" She finally said.

"Wow, I get to choose?" Ichimaru laughed as if he were truly delighted. Perhaps he was. Sangre wasn't sure because his reiatsu still felt like it was either going to hug her or strangle her, and she didn't know which would be worse.

"A mural would be nice," Ichimaru went on to say, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was slowly inching away. "Paintings on the wall of your choice, of course. I trust your artistic sensibilities, after all."

Sangre jerked backwards in reflex, her back hitting the seat of the bench, and suddenly found herself lying down, with Ichimaru casting a shadow over her, supported by a hand placed directly beside her head. She blinked up owlishly at his grinning face which looked a lot more hellish when shadowed. If she thought she hallucinated laughing writhing snakes behind him, she felt she could be excused this once.

" _Surprise me_ ," he said in a soft lilting whisper. Then he was sweeping away as suddenly as he had cornered her, taking away with him that disturbing reiatsu of his.

She tried, she really did, but apparently her self-preservation skills were sometimes as bad as Jaegerjaquez.

"You're _welcome_ , Kitsune-taichō!" Sangre yelled at his retreated back, missing heart still managing to make her feel like it was thundering in her ribcage even though it was not there. Ichimaru merely raised a hand and waved without turning around. She wouldn't be surprised if he were laughing to himself.

"What is wrong with him today?" She muttered to herself and shuddered.

"I would be more concerned about you, Sen-chan," Nelliel said from behind her. Sangre resisted the urge to curse. She had been so focused on that annoying snake, she had failed to notice the other Arrancar approaching.

"What? Why?" Sangre asked with a frown. "Nothing's wrong with me."

Nelliel raised an eyebrow. "If you say so."

She didn't sound convinced.

* * *

Sangre never got around painting Ichimaru's room. She spent days agonising over what to paint and procrastinating the job. In the meantime, she would find someone—either Jaegerjaquez, Nelliel or their Fracci óns—to spar with, paint some other parts of Las Noche with her new painting team which now included Pesche and Dondochakka who were only too happy to join in the fun, or bring her hyena companions out on hunting trips, usually in competition with whichever Números was in charge of helping the kitchens that day. (She always managed to get better quarries than them of course, and it seemed like the more she helped the kitchen staff, the more delicious food they served her).

There were even times when she would cross paths with Ichimaru—whose reiatsu did not take on that unnerving quality again—which somehow led to him teaching her how to play chess and card games once he found out that her only current hobby was reading. Sometimes, he would make an innocent comment about her progress in repainting Las Noche, and she would quickly swerve around the topic. The funny thing was, she was pretty sure he knew she was avoiding it, but he let her anyway, as it seemed to amuse him.

But in the end, Sangre did her research and found his quarters, which she realised he failed to introduce her to. It made her wonder how he expected her to paint his rooms when she wasn't even told where it was. The Shinigami residence was a building by itself, with each Shinigami owning two floors each. She did not dare to check out Tōsen's and Aizen's floors, but she visited Ichimaru's.

A few days later, she finally had some idea of what to paint. Snakes, of course, and perhaps oriental dragons and koi. The colour scheme would probably be white, black, vermillion, gold and silver.

She was still debating whether vermillion and gold would suit Ichimaru on the day she did her most daring act, which was to paint one of the bigger meeting rooms.

The original colour of the walls was a dull slate colour that looked absolutely dismal with the lighting of the meeting room, so she decided to liven it up by painting in the colours representing each Espada. First, she divided the room into four, with Jaegerjaquez's Fraccións taking two quarters, since they had five people, and her and Nelliel's Fraccións taking a quarter each. (Jaegerjaquez had been busy the past few days with some errand of Aizen's, no doubt involving one of his recruitment plans) Then, she picked a colour for each Espada—indigo for Starrk, amber for herself, emerald for Nelliel, viridian for Ulquiorra, violet for Cirucci, turquoise for Jaegerjaquez, orange for Gantenbainne, lilac for Nnoitra, plum for Aaroniero, crimson for Yammy.

Halfway through painting elaborate flowers behind Nnoitra's preferred seat, Sangre froze. Two reiatsu had blossomed nearby, faint as a whisper but Sangre knew better than to think it was because they were far away, because of them was cold and bright and slippery, the other burning dark with sharp teeth. If Ichimaru was a snake, Aizen would definitely be a weasel.

"Everyone," said Sangre, grabbing her glaive. "The Shinigami are coming. Artemisia, Apsithia, grab the slowest ones and go."

This was followed by some shrieking as the two hyena Arrancars bit the collars of the Arrancars they deemed to be the slowest and made off with the Arrancars being hauled along like too-big kittens held by the mouth of a mother cat.

Then she stabbed her pole-arm downwards, where its tip touched the floor and stopped, making it look like the glaive was balancing on just one point as time froze.

Half a minute was the longest she could make the technique last so far, and because there was a time delay between the technique's release and its subsequent reactivation which Sangre had yet to be able to shorten, she had four and a half minutes to pack up all the painting equipment before the Shinigami reached the room. All the painting equipment that she had no doubt Aizen would be able to tell who used them based on the residue reiryoku on them, considering how often she had used them in her paint wars with Jaegerjaquez.

What were the chances the Shinigami would enter this particular room?

Sangre thought that between Aizen's ability to sense her reiatsu no matter how much she could hide it from any other Arrancar, and his no doubt observation of the rest of Las Noche—because there was no way he wouldn't have come across at least one repainted room, she was pretty much doomed, even if she did manage to escape in time.

* * *

Aizen looked faintly amused in that sadistic you're-dead-even-though-I'm-not-really-angry sort of way. Sangre thought it might be because her entire head and neck was currently a shade of red that was as dark as it was startling. She shifted from one foot to the other, and hid crimson hands behind her back.

It wasn't a new thing, not really. She had been sporting that look ever since she accidentally spilled her new dye all over her head while trying dye _Jaegerjaquez's_ hair which had resulted in a scuffle, and apparently it stained skin as well. Jaegerjaquez now had red stains on his face and hands, but most of it had gotten onto Sangre, whose head and neck were red. So were her hands, as she'd stained them when she was trying to get the dye off.

(The only bright side to it was that it seemed to discourage the other Arrancars from disturbing her. Even Nnoitra seemed to have made himself scarce the past couple of days. And Jaegerjaquez's fraccións were more obedient too.)

Ichimaru stood beside Aizen, a little behind and to his right, like a proper subordinate. He was grinning, as usual, but he didn't seem as amused as Aizen, which was unusual, partially because Sangre had actually expected him to be tickled since he _had_ said before that he wanted a chance to witness the results of a mistake with dye. On the contrary, Sangre noted with some apprehension that his reiatsu seemed restless.

"Aizen-sama," she greeted with a polite smile, hesitating before, "Ichimaru… _sama_."

Behind Aizen, whose amused smile only widened at her greeting, there was a small abrupt movement and Sangre couldn't decide if she was delighted or troubled by the fact that the Shinigami had actually reacted as if she had just pointed her glaive at him.

"Had a fruitful morning, Sangre?" said Aizen casually, surveying the newly repainted conference room. His voice seemed to echo ominously around the room. "I hadn't realised I'd appointed you as a painter or interior designer."

There was an uncomfortably long pause where Aizen merely smiled at Sangre as if they were having a conversation about the weather. She was sure he was staying silent on purpose. To make her squirm. And squirm she only just barely refrained from doing. Instead, she sneaked glances at Ichimaru who had been silent the whole time and she would have thought he was enjoying the show if not for the fact _his_ reiatsu seemed to be squirming.

"While it's nice to see some initiative, allowing you free reign would send the wrong message wouldn't it," Aizen finally continued. "We can't have every other Arrancar thinking they are allowed to do anything they want in this place, after all. That means you require a punishment."

Sangre froze at that, suddenly feeling like there was a mouth full of sharp teeth at her throat. But she forced a smile on, and gritted out a, "As you see fit, Aizen-sama."

Aizen's smile widened into a smirk. "Good. How about spending some time in the human world? That sounds like a decent punishment for an Arrancar, don't you think? Ah, Gin, do escort her out."

* * *

 **How was it? Feel free to leave a comment or a question, either by review or PM!**

 **Next chapter will be up by the 7th of May!**

 **(Did I have to give her literal red hands? No, but the image in my mind of her with a red head and red hands was funny in that errr-is-that-blood? kind of way.)**


	11. XI: Back in Town

**So this is the next 'half' of the previous chapter which is now a chapter by itself. Also a short one.**

 **Hope you guys'll like it all the same.**

 **Disclaimer/Warnings: (No additions, see first chapter)**

 **(Edited 25/09/18: See next chapter)**

* * *

Chapter 11: Back in Town

* * *

 _"If everything seems under control, you're not going fast enough." ~ Andretti_

* * *

Sangre didn't think exile felt like a sentence at all. Perhaps, to an Arrancar like Grimmjow, being exiled to the human world would be a pain. He would likely throw a tantrum, attack some poor soul and probably cause a lot of property destruction. But for Sangre? She felt it would be interesting, if not fun. After all, she still had all her memories of being human. Perhaps many Arrancars had forgotten after so long of being a Hollow, but Sangre was new.

"It's a good thing Aizen-taichō decided not to demote you or kill you, y'know."

Sangre blinked at Ichimaru who hummed. She would have said he was relieved, except that something still seemed to be bothering him. She wondered if Aizen knew he had requested for her painting services, but then again, she didn't think Aizen would begrudge his subordinate that, would he? They seemed to get along fine, after all. Yet, she supposed appearances were often deceiving.

"I'll paint that room of yours when I get back," she said. Once again, she revelled in the feeling she, got when she saw his shoulders twitch. It was such a small easily missed action but nonetheless satisfying to observe.

"Ah, are ya not concerned at all?" Ichimaru asked, grinning down at her.

She grinned back. "Careful, or I'll start to think you're the one who's concerned. Anyway, if it's just your room, it should be fine, since no Arrancar would see it, right? So, they won't know I've continued to paint, and Aizen-sama can't punish me again with the excuse of setting an example."

"That's not all, y'know. About having to live in the human world…"

"What is it?"

"Hmm… Never mind. If it's Kōryū-kun, it should be fine."

"… What's that supposed to mean?"

"We're here!"

Sangre glared at his deflection, then glanced around them. They were standing just outside of Las Noche.

"You can open the Garganta yourself, right?" said Ichimaru.

She sighed, knowing she wasn't going to get any answers from him, and raised a hand. She'd never tried this since she was a Gillian, but she still remembered how she used to do it. Almost instinctively, she found a weak point and pulled at it. If the material of the world was like fabric, a weak point would be like a loose thread that holds together a hole, which can then be expanded into a gate. Sangre had a feeling there were other ways of creating a Garganta, like tearing the fabric with force, but she wasn't sure how well that would go even with hierro.

A gap appeared in the air, and beyond it, all Sangre could see was a black void. She took a step towards it, then turned to Ichimaru who was watching her.

"Oh, would it be possible for you to do me a favour?"

"That would depend on the favour, Kōryū-kun," he replied.

"Could you help me explain the situation to Nelliel and Jaegerjaquez-san? And help me ask them to look after Artemisia and Apsithia for me."

"That's two favours," said Ichimaru, and tilted his head. "But then, I don't think your—you call them your Fraccións, right? —I don't think your Fraccións need looking after. Is that all?"

"Yeah, thanks a lot, Kitsune-taichō," said Sangre with a cheeky laugh, and stepped backwards into the Garganta. "Miss me lots, okay?"

"You're the only one with enough guts to give me a nickname, Kōryū-kun. I'll get bored without you to play with," Ichimaru replied, which Sangre thought was about as close to an agreement as it could get.

"Well, I guess this is it," she said as she waved, and recalling how he would sometimes make his departure, tried to imitate his voice, "Bye bye~!"

The gap between dimensions began to close, and just before it shut itself, Sangre thought she caught a glimpse of Ichimaru's face without a smile.

* * *

When Sangre exited the Garganta, she was pleased to find that she had chosen the right thread, for she was not only back in the land of the living, but she was standing right above Karakura Town.

"Eh? EEHH?"

The voice came from below her, and when Sangre looked down, she saw a familiar ghost girl standing in the middle of a street looking up at her.

"Oh, Mira-chan!"

She hopped down to street-level and joined the ghost girl who was staring at her as if _she_ had just seen a ghost.

"Chizuki-nēsan? It's really you?"

Sangre noticed that the smaller girl started off by staring at her hair, then her eyes before quickly looking away, only to continue staring at right where her heart should be.

"Ah, things… happened?" said Sangre sheepishly, unsure of how to explain why she had a Hollow hole in her chest but was not attacking any soul she saw.

"Um, that's not… blood, right?"

And that was when the Arrancar remembered that her entire head was still red, from hair to neck.

"No, it's just dye," she quickly reassured the poor soul. She had a feeling that if she didn't have a habit of suppressing her reiatsu, she'd probably have a fainted ghost on her hands by now.

Mira nodded, twisted the edge of her shirt in her hands, then wrung them. "Um, so you're dead?"

"Yes…?"

"But… Your body is still… there."

Sangre blinked. "There? Where is there? You mean it hasn't been cremated or buried?"

Mira shook her head and pointed away from them. "No, it's still with the Shinigami."

* * *

The 'Shinigami' turned out to be the shopkeeper of small convenience store called Urahara Shop. Mira claimed it was indeed a Shinigami who had offered to give her a soul burial. A Shinigami who apparently _lived_ in Karakura Town.

"Why is my body with him?" Sangre demanded. The whole thing with Ichimaru being late at saving her soul was bad enough, now there was a Shinigami who could have stepped in but chose to wait until she was gone before he stole her body?

"He found it lying outside your apartment block," said Mira, leading Sangre to the back of the shop. Luckily, only two kids were watching the store that day—Jinta and Ururu, according to Mira. Sangre wasn't sure how good this Shinigami was, so she didn't know if she would be able to hide her reiatsu from him, but he'd definitely sense Mira.

"It was hurt badly," Mira continued as they entered a small room that looked like it could be used for storage but was fairly clean and uncluttered. "But Urahara-san patched it up and it's been here since. I don't know why but I think he kept it 'cuz your body wasn't dying as fast as normal."

"Dying as fast…? That means it _was_ dying," Sangre muttered, looking down at herself. Her old self.

The body lying on the table in the room had her black hair and Sangre knew if she opened the body's eyes, they would be dark violet. The body did not look like a corpse nor did it smell like one—rather it simply seemed as if she were sleeping.

"Mn, I think Urahara-san did something with it to slow down the dying even more."

Sangre wanted her body back, but she was also wary of this Shinigami shopkeeper. She has had only two encounters with Shinigami before—Tōsen didn't really count since she has only seen him from a distance before—and both Shinigami had proven to be suspicious people. She was also fairly certain that Shinigami did not actually stay anywhere other than Soul Society, so if Urahara, who was staying here as a shopkeeper, was anything like Ichimaru and Aizen, who knew what he'd done to her body.

 _But leaving my body here in the hands of that dubious Shinigami shopkeeper would be even worse_ , she thought, as she sensed two foreign reiatsu approaching the shop. They were moving at a leisurely pace, so Sangre figured she still had time before they arrived, but she wasn't sure when they'd sense _her_.

"Thanks Mira," Sangre said to the ghost girl as she picked up her body and carried it over one shoulder. "You should just accept the Shinigami's offer soon. Don't linger around too long, kay? Otherwise you might end up with a hole here too." And tapped the spot over Mira's heart.

"Okay, take care, Chizuki-nēsan," said Mira and bobbed her head.

Sangre quickly left the area with sonído and fled all the way to her apartment. Now, she could only hope the Shinigami would not come back here once he realised the body he had was gone.

* * *

Sticking a hand into the inner pocket of her body's jacket, Sangre was glad she could touch and move physical objects. She was also glad that her body was still wearing her old clothes, even if they were stained and dirtied, not only because it meant her wallet and keys were still on her, but because she didn't want to think about the Shinigami changing her clothes.

Finding the right key, she stuck it into the keyhole and unlocked it.

The apartment looked just the way it had when she had left it—a total mess. The place was wrecked, thanks to the Hollows that had attacked her that night. Sangre didn't want to think about how she was going to explain that to her landlord.

First, she moved her body into the apartment, then she went to check the calendar to find out how long more she had before the next time she had to pay the rent.

Sangre stared at the calendar long and hard. She knew it had been at least a month since she left the apartment, so she could easily flip to the next month.

There was a circle around one of the Mondays, indicating that was the start of the next school term. However, she did not actually know which date it was at the moment.

The next circle indicated when she had to pay the landlord, so just by estimation, she had a week or two to either get the apartment back in order and pay the next month's rent or abandon this place—after all, it wouldn't be hard to just stab her body with a knife, end whatever life it had left, and leave it here for the landlord to find.

But what date was it today?

Sangre thought she must have spent a few hours just tidying up the place as much as she could. She could do nothing about the state of the kitchen—she'd have to call in someone to repair it, but everything else that she could fix, she tried to fixed. But while she was still trying to put a shelf back together, there was a few light knocks on the door.

The reiatsu outside the door was familiar, but she could not identify it. It was likely to be someone from her old life. The problem was that she was an Arrancar now, and her body was—not dead, but not exactly alive either. So, she couldn't just open the door like that.

Was possession possible? Could it even be called possession if the body actually belonged to the spirit doing the possessing?

Then the doorbell rang, followed by more knocking.

"Chizuki-chan?"

Sangre stood up, recognising the voice. It was a friend of hers. They weren't very close, and Sangre was more familiar with Tatsuki, she used to have sleep-overs at her place when her brother was still alive.

"Ah, wait a second, let me just—!" And she made a lunge for her body and slipped back in as easily as wearing a jacket. Well, that answered her question about possession, at least.

"Oh, are you unwell? Your voice sounds different."

"That—" But how was she to explain that her voice was different due to Hollowfication, particularly now that it had gone back to how it was previously? —And she hadn't even realised there was a difference until now.

"Yeah! I'm down with a cold," said Sangre—now Chizuki, trying to imitate her Arrancar voice as she stood back up on legs that seemed to have forgotten how to walk. There was a loud crash as she tripped over a chair she had yet to fix.

"Chizuki-chan?"

"I'm fine!" She yelled back and got back up, cursing the pins and needles in her legs. Her whole body had been inactive for so long, she was certain that if not for her ability to manipulate it by sheer force and possibly spiritual power, she would be unable to move at all.

"Um, if you're really unwell, you should get back to bed," came Inoue's voice from the other side of the door. "I'll just leave these here. You can collect them later. They're notes and homework from class."

Which meant that the school term has started.

* * *

Later, she reflected that it was a good thing she didn't have to answer the door, considering the state of her clothes. If Inoue had seen her, she wouldn't have been able to come up with an excuse as to why it looked like she had gotten into a fight when she should have been in bed the whole day.

Flipping through the notes and worksheets Inoue had left behind, Sangre found the date. She had missed two days of school including today. Then she shrugged.

A cold was a good excuse. She had the rest of today to go through what she had missed and call up someone about the kitchen. And if school had only just started, she should have enough time to get the apartment back in order, and if she didn't, now that she was human again, she could explain to the landlord that there had been a robbery or something. Actually, that was probably the best way to—

She was human again.

Chizuki stood up, dazed, then sat back down. Human. Again. Back to school. Ordinary life.

 _Hell_ , she thought. _This just go complicated._

* * *

 **That's all for now! Thanks for reading! Reviews and comments are always welcome.**

 **Next chapter is expected to be finished by 25th June.**


	12. XII: Flip of a Coin

**A longer chapter this time! Featuring another transition for Chizuki. Yes, it's ridiculous. Blame the main character for canon-Bleach.**

 **Disclaimer/Warnings: (No additions, see first chapter)**

 **(Edited 25th September 2018: Thanks to a guest reviewer, I have been alerted to a mistake in my writing. Sorry for those who got confused with/by me. I sometimes have trouble figuring out the first and last names of some of the Bleach characters because some places write their names with their surnames at the back when it should be at the front. It's been corrected now).**

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Flip of a Coin**

* * *

 _"Things turn out best for the person who makes the best of the way things turn out."_

* * *

The first thing Chizuki did when she was startled awake by her alarm clock was to eliminate the source of annoyance. The alarm clock did not survive the hit.

Then she stared at the crumpled lump of plastic pieces and metal on the floor. It was an alarm clock, of course. Or at least it was one up till the point where she'd thrown it against the wall. In her defence, it had been a while since she came across a time-keeping device, let alone one that made a godawful sound in the morning, never mind the fact that she had been the one who had set the alarm the night before.

Chizuki turned to squint at the bright sunlight streaming in through the window. She'd seen the sun the day before, but this was the first morning she had witnessed in a month.

It took her all of three minutes of just dazedly soaking up sunlight like a plant before she realised the reason why she had an alarm clock.

* * *

"We thought you weren't going to show up today either," said Tatsuki, when Chizuki materialised in their classroom.

"I nearly overslept," Chizuki admitted as she dropped herself into her seat with a sigh. She scrubbed her eyes, just to make sure she wasn't dreaming up her classroom.

Inoue whirled around and let out a small high-pitched sound. "Chizuki-chan! Since when did you get here?"

"Just," said Tatsuki. "Moved like a ghost." She turned to Chizuki who had her face planted on her desk. "Say, did your legs grow longer?"

"No, I don't think so?" came the mumbled reply.

"Oh," Tatsuki frowned, wondering why the distance covered by each step her friend made seemed longer now.

"You're better now?" asked Inoue. "Did you go through the stuff I brought over yesterday?"

Chizuki looked up, stared at her unblinkingly for a long moment before grinning, "Yeah, thanks Inoue-chan."

"It's Orihime," the other girl chided. "We've known each other for how long now?"

"Three-four years?" said Tatsuki, then amended, "Well, three or so years for me and two years for you."

Chizuki had met Tatsuki when they were around nine or ten, where they practiced karate with some other kids. She then met Orihime by coincidence after her parents' deaths and began staying over at her place on occasion due to her brother's mother-hen-persistence. She stopped after Sora died the year before, though Orihime would sometimes still invite Tatsuki and her over. Chizuki would always decline if it was near any mealtime, solely because Orihime had very questionable taste in food.

"How were your holidays?" Chizuki could not help but ask, wondering what everyone else had been doing while she was trapped in a whole different world.

"Uneventful," said Tatsuki. "Where were you? We were going to the beach last Saturday, but you weren't in when we came by."

"We had lots of fun, you should join us next time," Orihime chirped. "Pity you missed it."

"Ah, I was out of town visiting a distant relative," Chizuki replied with the answer she had prepared the night before. She didn't actually have any distant relatives she knew of, her school funding coming out of whatever money her parents had left behind. But no one actually knew if she had living relatives somewhere out there, so…

"Was there a lot of sand?"

"It's the beach," said Tatsuki dryly. "There's a lot of sand and water."

Chizuki decided not to mention that she had seen a lot of sand while she was 'out of town'… lest they ask if her relative lived in a desert. No, better to ignore the past month and enjoy this surreal daydream of ordinary life while she could.

It was good to be back.

* * *

Ordinary life, as it turned out, was not easy to have, not after being turned into a Hollow, it seemed. Or perhaps it was simply because the Shinigami in Karakura Town appeared to have gotten worse at their jobs—not that she was complaining.

"Hey, Fat Piggy!" Chizuki yelled and waved. The boar-like Hollow let out a bellow and turned to charge at her.

Chizuki was not a reckless person by nature, and after her experience as a Hollow, her sense of self-preservation had increased further. However, this Hollow was of such a low level that it could only be considered a side-dish for an Arrancar. Not that Chizuki was hungry—human food tasted a lot better—but she _was_ restless.

Ordinary life did not agree with her.

Wake. Breakfast. Class. Lunch. More classes. Homework. Sleep.

By the end of the first week of school, Chizuki had begun to feel an itch. She hadn't even been the type to seek fights, unlike Jaegerjaquez, but she did get a lot of exercise back in Las Noche, running around repainting rooms or training with her friends. She tried working out in her human body, and for a while, it seemed to help. But that only lasted for another week or two before Chizuki saw a Hollow destroying public property and the itch was back tenfold.

And that was how she ended up desperately trying to antagonise a Hollow.

It turned out that getting out of her body was a lot harder than getting back in. Perhaps it could be said that her body had an… attachment to her soul, or rather, it was attached to _living_. It would not let go of her when she tried to leave it, but all too eagerly welcomed her back in when she so much as touched it.

However, Hollows appeared to have the ability to separate a soul from its body. Evidently, it did not work when Chizuki was trying to do it on herself, but it did work when a Hollow attacked her. The only mildly difficult part was _not_ attempting to dodge when anything leaking killing intent is aimed in her direction.

But once she was free—a strange term to use, perhaps, but appropriate, because while being human had its perks, her human body could be rather limiting—she'd swing her Zanpakutō and the poor Hollow would not have a chance.

Sometimes, Sangre would toy around with the Hollow before she'd kill it. She enjoyed moving about in her spirit-self. Her spirit body felt stronger and lighter and generally more comfortable. But she also did not like risking getting exposed to any nearby Shinigami, even though she was confident in her ability to hide her reiatsu. With a Hollow around just… doing Hollow things, she felt safer because the Hollow's reiatsu, no matter how weak it was, would get sensed first, which meant that she would be able to sense the Shinigami before the Shinigami sensed her, and make a quick escape by returning to her human body.

That was one of the upsides of having a human body—the change in her reiatsu. Her physical body seemed to act as a filter, and while she did not know exactly what her own reiatsu felt like to others, she knew it did not feel like a Hollow's when she was 'human.' She had tried and tested this out with whichever Shinigami was in charge of looking after the town, none of whom had given her a second glance whenever she passed by them.

Shinigami.

They were a strange bunch, and while Chizuki had basically spent three months in their presence now, she was still no closer to figuring them out.

The first thing she was sure of was the existence of a Soul Society. And an Academy for Shinigami, according to Ichimaru.

The second thing she was sure of was that there was always a Shinigami watching out for Karakura Town. The Shinigami may not always be the same one and while some stayed in town for a week, some may stay up till a month. And these Shinigami were always completely robed in black… In other words, none of them were Captains.

The third thing she was sure of was that there was a different Shinigami who was permanently staying in town. This Shinigami was the one who had picked up her body after she became a Hollow, the one she stole her body back from—was it considered stealing if it belonged to her in the first place? However, even though Chizuki could sometimes sense this Shinigami at the edges of her perception field, he never approached her, and she had never seen him deal with Hollows. It was always the other ones, the temporary ones, who would respond to a Hollow attack.

So, the question was, who was this Shinigami who lived in Karakura Town like a human? What was his role? And what had Ichimaru Gin, a Shinigami Captain, been doing in town on That Night?

One possibility was that the Shinigami-in-charge has asked for back-up from a Captain since the Hollows on That Night were not the ordinary low-level type. But the Shinigami-in-charge had been missing from that particular incident, which either meant that they'd been attacked prior to the Hollows breaking into her apartment, or they'd been sent back to Soul Society after it had been establish that the Captain would be able to handle everything. Or so she assumed.

There was still the fact that there should not be any Adjuchas in the human world, and the fact that Ichimaru had not been able to handle everything, though these facts Chizuki would ignore for now, shelving them in the section of her mind labelled 'Blame Aizen.'

Regardless, if the Shinigami were the police, she was now the vigilante. A Hollow-killing vigilante who wore the uniform of a group of advanced Hollows under a Shinigami Captain.

 _There are so many things wrong with that_ , thought Chizuki, when she reflected on it. But then again, most things Aizen-related were rather questionable.

* * *

There were other things that had apparently gone wrong, as Chizuki soon found out.

Sangre had noticed it the first time she killed a Hollow with her Zanpakutō, but it was only one month after observing the Shinigami in charge of Karakura Town that she began to realise that there was something… not quite right.

When a Shinigami dispatches a Hollow, the Hollow would supposedly be purified. The indicator for this was the disintegration of the Hollow into shimmering light. Perhaps 'light' was not really an accurate term to describe it, in the sense that the purification of the Hollow was not necessarily a bright and shiny process. But it was more of a feeling of the Hollow's reiatsu fading into something… _else_ , before disappearing entirely.

Sangre knew what a Hollow killing another Hollow felt like. It felt the same as a Hollow consuming a soul, really. Reiatsu… poof. Gone. The end. Well, not _the end_ , if what she heard about reincarnation was correct, but nonetheless, the end for now.

The point was, purification of a Hollow had a distinct feel. And Sangre had this same feeling whenever she killed a Hollow. It was entirely absurd, since she was no Shinigami, unless of course, by some mistake of Aizen's—though knowing the Shinigami, there was always a chance that it was really on purpose—the process that turned her into an Arrancar also gave her access to actual Shinigami powers instead of just making her _similar_ to a Shinigami.

 ** _That is… not entirely wrong but not entirely correct either,_** said the voice. 'The' voice, because there was only one other voice she'd ever heard in her head though this was the first time she had heard it speak in a very long time.

Sangre rubbed the space between her brows as she crouched behind a wall, ignoring the other Hollow for now.

 _Would you like to elaborate on that?_ She asked wryly.

 ** _What do you think you're holding right now?_** The voice replied, because of course it would answer with another question.

 _A… glaive? Pole-arm? Zanpakutō?_

 ** _Mmm… What kind of Zanpakutō?_**

… _What do you mean what kind of Zanpakutō? Are there differences other than the form of the weapon?_

 ** _Do you think the Zanpakutō of a Shinigami and the Zanpakutō of an Arrancar are the same?_**

 _Oh, probably not. Ours is from our hearts, right? Or something like that,_ Sangre said, tapping the edge below her Hollow-hole. _And… who knows where the Shinigami get theirs from, since they've still got their hearts in the correct place._

The voice laughed. Sangre decided it did not like the sound of the laugh because it sounded like it was mocking her, which was frankly, more insulting than anything else because the voice was _in her head_.

 ** _And what's the difference you can perceive between a Shinigami's Zanpakutō and that of an Arrancar?_**

 _Purification of the killed Hollow,_ Sangre replied, as she recalled one particular hunting trip when her hunting partner—some Números—killed the Hollow instead of bringing it back alive for the Chefs.

Then the voice was silent, as it let the implication sink in. The only sound in the night was the screeching metallic sound of the Hollow ripping out a nearby street lamp.

When Sangre finally processed what she'd said and what the silence meant, she nearly dropped her weapon.

 _Are you saying my Zanpakutō is a Shinigami's? Where the hell did you get this thing from?!_

 ** _Your Zanpakutō is not a_** **thing** ** _and it was not stolen from another Shinigami, if that's what you're implying,_** said the voice, a scowl evident in its tone. **_But yes, it is not an Arrancar weapon. Do you know what that means?_**

… _No,_ said Sangre, slumping back against the wall. By then, she had a feeling that the voice was not the previous owner of the Zanpakutō or something, but rather, there was a high chance that it was the Zanpakutō itself, no matter how ridiculous it sounded for a weapon to not only have sentience like some tsukumogami, but to also have telepathic abilities.

 ** _You are not a proper Arrancar._**

Sangre sat up. _Excuse me?_

 ** _Your Zanpakutō is a Shinigami weapon. You currently do not have access to your own Arrancar Zanpakutō. Hence, you are not a proper Arrancar at the moment._**

 _Okay, that's wonderful. Aizen promoted a not-quite-Arrancar to Segunda Espada. Good for him. Except now I'm exiled so I guess it doesn't matter. Is that another reason why he exiled me? Because he realised something was wrong? Is this why I have no idea how to activate Resurrección? Well—_

 ** _Stop rambling. You don't have time for this._**

Sangre was about to ask why she didn't have the time to question her very existence when there was a high-pitched scream. The Hollow had found a soul.

 ** _Do you remember the name I gave you?_**

 _Kagerō?_

 ** _Yes. The command is now "Brillar."_**

"Brillar, Kagerō," said Sangre aloud. She wanted to ask what that foreign word meant, because it sounded suspiciously like Spanish, and the voice had previously implied that it did not know Spanish, but now was not the time.

The moment the words left her mouth, the glaive she was holding transformed into a straight double-edged sword with a 70-centimetre-long blade and a two-handed hilt. In other words, its appearance reverted back to how it was the first time she wielded it, some months ago, back when she first encountered Baraggan Louisenbairn.

She used sonído to step between the Hollow and the soul of a screaming man, swung the sword and decapitated the Hollow.

 ** _Oh, and… tear off your mask._**

Sangre, who had been in the middle of marvelling at the purification process (again), froze, frowned, then closed her eyes with a barely audible groan.

 _I don't know if you've realised, but 'Arrancar' means the verb 'tear', and we're named as such because of our torn-off mask._

 ** _Tch. Why are you like this?_** The voice demanded but did not wait for Sangre to reply. **_I meant, tear off the remaining part of your mask. The bit in your hair._**

Sangre thought the voice was crazy, which goes to say how much one should listen to a random voice in their head which may or may not belong to a random weapon that may or may not belong to them.

 ** _You won't_** **die** ** _from tearing it off,_** the voice grumbled, sounding as if Sangre was kicking a fuss out of nothing. She felt she was entitled to feel worried, however, considering how the mask was supposed to be a part of her heart.

 ** _You didn't die from having part of it torn off, you won't die from having all of it off._**

Sangre would later say that the only reason why she decided to go against her better judgement and listen to the voice was because she could sense the Shinigami-in-charge coming and it made her panic. In truth, it was a terrible excuse, not least because her body was near enough for a simple sonído to be sufficient for her to return back to being 'human.' And she had done this so often, it should have been a natural action to do even if she had panicked… But panic, she did not.

(The truth she denied was that her curiosity won over her self-preservation. Fortunately for her, it did not kill her).

The voice was right, Chizuki realised after tearing off the remaining fraction of her mask from the side of her head, because she was still very much alive. In fact, she was so alive that her Hollow-hole had disappeared and that annoying emptiness she often pushed to the back of her mind was gone.

However, she was still a spirit, that much she gathered, when she realised her body was still lying some metres away. And she was wearing clothes she never thought she would wear—a loose black kosode over a white undershirt, black billowy hakama, white socks and straw sandals. There was even a sheath—finally!—for her sword, strapped to the back of her waist in a horizontal position.

 ** _Oh good, it worked,_** said the voice, sounding pleased. Chizuki ignored it and swiftly ducked into the nearest alley and pressed herself against the wall, lowering her reiatsu even further than it usually was—which was a considerable feat, since her reiatsu was almost always held lower than that of a weak unevolved Hollow—letting herself blend in with the shadows around her.

 _Why do I look like a Shinigami?!_ She demanded as the Shinigami-in-charge stepped into view, looking like he had dashed here all the way from the other side of town. All that was left on the scene was a broken lamp post, shattered glass and a cracked road. The soul that had been targeted by the Hollow was hovering nearby, out of sight, but his reiatsu indicated that he was still somewhere in the area.

 ** _Well, congratulations. Your spirit and Zanpakutō type matches now._**

Chizuki wondered if the other Shinigami had annoying voices in their heads as well.

* * *

Time passed, and Chizuki grew her hair out. She had noticed that having short hair allowed people, especially those taller than her, to ruffle or mess it up. So, she let her hair grow and kept it from annoying her by tying it back and plaiting it up, fringe and all. And when she needed further ease of movement, such as during Phys-Ed, or when facing a Hollow, she would either twist and coil the braids before pinning it up or loop them around her neck.

Tatsuki felt that Chizuki looked ridiculous whenever she tied up her braids or looped them like a scarf, but Orihime enjoyed playing with her hair, and would try to see what elaborate designs she could tie Chizuki's braids up into.

But Chizuki's new life was very soon turned around again, except this time, it was all due to her own curiosity-fuelled choices.

It started with her tailing the Shinigami-in-charge, just to test out how long it would take for him to notice her stalking him. This was on hindsight, not such a great idea, which she only realised when she found herself with a tail—the Shinigami shopkeeper. This was the first time she had actually sensed him close enough for her to be tempted to look around to see if he was in sight.

Later on, it was just one impulsive decision after another.

On that particular day that Chizuki had chosen to shadow the Shinigami-in-charge, said Shinigami was finishing his assignment. This meant that after the latest Hollow was eliminated, the Shinigami checked his cell-phone-like device and stabbed the air in front of him with his sword. Half of the Zanpakutō blade seemed to disappear, as if the sword had actually pierced through a cloaking material, and when the Shinigami turned the sword like a key in a keyhole, the air twisted and opened up a glowing gate.

It was really a set of shōji rather than an actual gate, and it seemed to open up into a bright waiting room, but simple as it may be, it certainly looked more elegant and sophisticated than a Hollow's rough tear of the fabric between dimensions that was more like a domesticated black hole than anything else.

When the Shinigami stepped through the sliding doors, Chizuki, sensing the watchful presence of the Shinigami shopkeeper and not wanting to be left alone with him, quickly dashed in through the doors before they closed behind her. But even though she was, at that moment, practically an inch away from the Shinigami in front of her, he didn't seem to notice anything wrong.

 _Such easy prey,_ Chizuki could not help but think. And she wondered if most other Shinigami that were below Captain-class were this oblivious. Sure, she knew her skills at sneaking could be considered as one of the best in Las Noche, carried over and honed further from her time as an Adjuchas, but she also knew that there were Shinigami who were still able to find her, such as Aizen and that mysterious Shinigami shopkeeper.

Then, in the span of a blink, the Shinigami before her disappeared along with the bright space that resembled a traditional waiting room. In its place was a strange dark tunnel with walls covered in some strange dripping substance. For a moment, Chizuki leaned close to a wall and stared at the substance. It seemed to be concentrated with reishi, but it felt nothing like Chizuki had sensed before, and she didn't dare touch it.

That was before she realised that the dripping substance could flow fast and suddenly, all the walls seemed to be pouring with this substance, as if the place was alive and could sense an intruder. She did the only sensible thing and ran.

Chizuki thought she was fast even without using her time-freezing technique, and even though she was now a Shinigami, their technique for high-speed movement was similar enough to a Hollow's sonído that Chizuki took to it like a fish to water. But the waterfall of that weird substance could keep up with her, and she was worried she might get swept up by it sooner or later.

Just as she was about to draw her sword, the voice spoke up, **_Don't. This place seems to have detected your reiatsu. Using that technique might aggravate the situation._**

However, she did not have many options left. If she couldn't use her Zanpakutō, and Shinigami-sonído did not seem to work, all that was left was to use a Cero or to open up a Garganta, and she wasn't even sure if she could still use those techniques when she was supposed to be a Shinigami now.

 ** _A Cero is essentially concentrated reiryoku,_** said the voice. **_The Shinigami may have a different term for their version of it though. But we don't know if this whole place will collapse on us if you fire anything of the sort so please don't do it._**

Chizuki was about to shriek because _what else could she do_ , when she saw a bright light ahead.

An exit, finally!

* * *

Chizuki shot out of the exit like a comet and created a mini-crater when she landed right behind the Shinigami she had been following earlier. It was the flashiest entrance she had ever made and now that she was standing face-to-face with a stunned former-Shinigami-in-charge and a taller scarier-looking Shinigami who was most definitely wearing a Captain's haori, she felt it was likely going to be the last flashy entrance she'd ever make for a very long time.

"Hi, I come in peace?" she tried, raising her hands in surrender. Not that being empty-handed and holding her hands away from her body could stop her from harming anyone, but it was the intent that counted.

"A ryōka?" the former-Shinigami-in-charge said.

"But wearing our uniform," observed the scary-looking Captain who had an eyepatch but looked a lot more like a pirate than Nnoitra. "Did you steal it?"

The first Shinigami approached her even as she gave a negative answer. Chizuki wisely decided against mentioning that getting so close to her, a stranger, and trusting her not to attack him was an incredibly stupid decision. No Arrancar would do that unless they were very sure of their ability to crush her. Those were the arrogant ones, and this Shinigami didn't seem like the type. He was just… oblivious.

"Her clothes look like ours, but it doesn't belong to any Division," said the Shinigami, tugging at the back of her robes' collar as if she were no more dangerous than a rabbit. Or perhaps he was just confident in the Captain's ability to stop her if she tried anything. "She's got a sword though."

"Who are you and where are you from?" the Captain asked.

"Um… Karakura Town? Where are we?" Chizuki replied, feigning ignorance, and glanced at the traditional buildings all around them. "I was… There was this monster, and his tail whacked me out of my body, and there was a voice in my head and I obeyed its instructions because, well, there was a monster and I didn't want to die. And then there was a flash of light and I was… holding a sword and dressed like this. When he—" Here, she pointed at the Shinigami. "—came, I hid, because I didn't know what was going on, but he killed the monster, so… good guy, right? Then I wanted to ask him what was going on, but he went through this door thing and I tried to follow but I ended up lost in some weird dark tunnel that tried to eat me."

The two Shinigami stared at her.

"Repeat the first part," said the Captain.

"Which part?" Chizuki asked, scratching the back of her neck in a show of nervousness. "Where are we? Um, there as a monster and his tail whacked me out of my body?"

"It's not possible," said the former-Shinigami-in-charge with a frown. Chizuki didn't think he was referring to the out-of-body experience.

"Well, it's happened, so it must be possible," said the Captain and huffed. "Let's just bring her to see the old fart. He'll know what to do."

To Chizuki, he said, "I'm Zaraki Kenpachi, Capatin of the 11th Division. You'll be coming with me."

Then he turned on the spot and began striding away, white ragged haori fanning out behind him. Chizuki gave the other Shinigami an uncertain glance. He looked at her unconcerned and waved her along.

Bristling inwardly, she could only sigh and follow the Captain like an obedient dog. She wondered if all Captains were like that and was thankful Ichimaru hadn't tried that with her… yet.

* * *

 **So, how was it? Feel free to leave a review or PM me about anything!**

 **Next chapter will take a while longer, but should be up by the end of May.**


	13. XIII: Down the Rabbit Hole

**Here you go! Sorry for the wait!**

 **Also, in reply to Calceus's guest review: While a lot of things have changed and will continue changing, the main plot has not, so if you want to read some not-so-well-written semi-spoilers, you can refer to the original Lieutenant Espada story.**

 **Disclaimer/Warnings: (No additions, see first chapter)**

 **(Edited 25/09/18: See previous chapter)**

* * *

Chapter 13: Down the Rabbit Hole

* * *

 _"The trouble with experience is that it usually teaches you something you really didn't want to know."_

* * *

Facing the Captain Commander was likely one of the most terrifying experience Chizuki had experience, trumped only by That Night. Despite the fact that Chizuki was now supposedly a Shinigami herself, the reiatsu of other Shinigami still prickled at her senses.

Chizuki had gotten used to Ichimaru's cold and slippery reiatsu to the extent that she no longer instinctively tensed in alarm whenever she sensed it, while Aizen's reiatsu could easily be ignored because he always had it reigned until it was no more than a vaguely threatening shadow at the back of one's mind. And while she had heard from some of the other Arrancars that his reiatsu could become a crushing weight of claws and sharp teeth, she had yet to experience it herself.

But here, she was sitting on her heels, legs folded seiza-styled, in front of five Shinigami, all of whom seemed to either have no sense to keep their reiatsu to themselves or were purposefully keeping a loose leash on them. She could feel the excited vibration of Zaraki's small pink-haired lieutenant who looked more like a kid than a lieutenant, but Chizuki knew better than to underestimate someone based on their appearance (she was also gratified to see strange hair colours among the Shinigami). Zaraki himself had such a wild reiatsu that Chizuki could not help but once again associate him with a pirate on stormy seas, what with his eyepatch, tattered haori, strange hairstyle and all.

Meanwhile, the white-haired Captain's reiatsu was calmer and lighter but no less disturbing, like a fine cloud that could turn thunderous and pour rain at a whim. The Captain beside him, wearing a questionably pink and flowery haori over his white captain one, also felt dangerous, his reiatsu seemingly mellow and carefree but with a darker undercurrent, not unlike the feeling she got with Ichimaru's lazy reiatsu.

Yet, all these different reiatsu were overshadowed by the Captain Commander's fiery pressure that was at such odds with his ancient appearance. It was the kind of reiatsu Chizuki would associate with a hot-blooded younger individual like Jaegerjaquez.

Chizuki resisted the urge to fidget on the spot. She was half-certain that the reason why she could feel all their reiatsu so keenly was because they wanted her to, as a form of intimidation. Her own reiatsu she kept close to her skin, instinct and survival-trained habit allowing her to easily dismiss the urge to flare her reiatsu in response. In the deserts of Hueco Mundo, that was a surefire way to attract prey, but it was also a beacon for potential enemies, and it was not in her nature to loudly advertise her existence, regardless of how confident she was in her own abilities. Here in Seireitei, a place filled with Shinigami, there was no way she would let anyone have a feel of her reiatsu before she was ready.

"We have never let a human become a Shinigami before," said Yamamoto, after a while. Chizuki had repeated the story she'd told Zaraki, and since the story was entirely true—simply missing out the most crucial part of her becoming a Hollow first—that no one could doubt the sincerity of it.

"But no human has managed to gain Shinigami abilities before dying first," Kyōraku commented.

"Am I not dead?" Chizuki blurted out, and mentally pat herself on the back for her own acting, earning herself a 'Tch' from the voice in her head.

The Shinigami exchanged glances.

"We have sent someone to check on your body," said Ukitake with a gentle smile. "It is still alive, which means you may return to it later."

Chizuki put on a bemused expression. "Um, so, do I have to return my… sword and clothes to go back?"

"Returning them would imply that they came from somewhere else, either given or stolen," Kyōraku pointed out. "But if they are yours to begin with, simply changing clothes and putting away your Zanpakutō would not change the fact that you are now a Shinigami."

"Why can't we just make her a Shinigami?" Zaraki asked.

"Your circumstances were different," the Captain Commander said firmly. "And we would rather not have anyone doing the same."

Chizuki was confused and somewhat intrigued (what circumstances?) but she knew it would be wiser to keep her questions to herself for the moment.

"Since she already has a Zanpakutō, why don't we send her to the Academy for training?" Flowery Captain suggested.

"The problem is that her human life has not ended yet," said the white-haired one. There was a moment of silence as all the Captains seemed to ponder about what to do with her.

"We shall let her take the entrance exam for the Academy," the Captain Commander decided after a while. "If she obtains a sufficiently high grade, she may receive private tutoring instead of attending the typical classes. However, if she fails to meet the standard, we will seal her powers and she will live out her life as a normal human until she dies and is able to attend Academy lessons proper."

Chizuki was understandably alarmed by the prospect of having her abilities sealed, even though she didn't really care if she could become a Shinigami or not. What she was concerned about was how that would affect her Hollow side... Would she still be able to access her Hollow abilities if her Shinigami ones were sealed? That, and staying in a human body was limiting enough—she did not want to find out how uncomfortable having her powers sealed would feel like.

Which meant that she had to do way better than a typical Academy student in order to meet their requirements for special treatment, so to speak.

* * *

"You're stressed," Tatsuki commented, sounding amused, a smirk curling up.

Inoue examined Chizuki from head to toe with large eyes. "Really?"

Tatsuki poked the area between her eyebrows with a finger.

"There's a small wrinkle here," she said with a smug look, while their ginger friend listened raptly, as if Tatsuki were teaching some very important life lesson. Chizuki suppressed a growl at the thought of being treated like an educational tool.

"It's hard to catch," Tatsuki went on. "But if you observe her face long enough, you'll be able to tell the difference."

"She just looks bored as usual," Inoue admitted.

Chizuki huffed and turned away from her friends. She had no idea how Shinigami did things in Soul Society, and she did not know what to expect for their entrance exam.

Was there a written part? Because she was likely to fail that, since the only information she had about Shinigami was what she had observed from the past few months (and what little Ichimaru had

As for the practical portion, the only thing Chizuki was confident in doing was the Shinigami version of sonído. She didn't know what else she was supposed to be able to do, since the Shinigami-in-charge never did anything really fancy... Though there was that time when one of them used some sort of technique that produced a red orb of energy that had a flame-like quality. It reminded her of a Cero, except that it seemed a lot more versatile, as she had witnessed the Shinigami-in-charge control the size of the energy as if it were a flame over a Bunsen burner.

"What are you worried about?" Tatsuki asked. "We don't have any tests coming up or pressing deadlines."

"Is it rent?" Inoue piped up. "Because you're welcome to stay over anytime, even though my apartment's kind of small."

Chizuki smiled and shook her head. "Nah, it's nothing much."

"If you say so," said Tatsuki, making a face. She didn't look convinced. "But this is the first time I've seen you stressed since middle school started, you know."

Inoue nodded eagerly. "If you need anything, tell us! We're friends after all."

Chizuki could only grin at them sheepishly as she waved away their concern. "It really isn't much."

And it was true, to a certain extent. There was not much point in worrying about the exam now, and even if she failed, it wasn't going to affect her human life negatively. In fact, in terms of living like a normal middle-school kid, failing the exam would probably benefit her more. The only part she was really concerned about was… well, the problems that she would always blame Aizen for.

* * *

Chizuki sensed them long before she saw them, but she ignored their presence until they were right outside her door. There was a heavy knocking that sounded more like someone was trying to break her door down with their fists.

"Oi, Yoruka! Are you in there or not?!" Zaraki hollered from outside.

"Chii-chan!" And that would be Kusajishi, his Lieutenant.

She put away her homework and headed to the door, hurriedly opening it before they actually broke it. She noted that the Captain was so tall he wouldn't be able to enter without stooping lower. Kusajishi was perched on his shoulder with a bright smile.

"Yay! We got the right door!" she cheered, clapping enthusiastically. Zaraki seemed to be nodding in agreement.

Chizuki stared at them, wondering how a Lieutenant and a Captain could be so terrible at sensing reiatsu, and worse still, that Soul Society would send such a pair to find her, when they could have easily broken down the door of some stranger if they made a mistake.

"Come on!" said Kusajishi and swung wildly. Chizuki dodged by instinct, blinking as the small fist flew past her head, fast enough that Chizuki had only barely avoided it and would have likely had her face caved in if she hadn't dodged.

"What the—"

And that was when Kusajishi pulled back alarmingly fast and punched her, this time without missing. Chizuki found herself rubbing her face, cursing the speed of her human body and wondering why her face felt fine. Then she realised she still standing while her human body was lying on the ground behind her.

"Why did you dodge it the first time?" Kusajishi complained. Chizuki blinked at her incredulously.

"Who wouldn't dodge a freaking punch to the face?"

"I was using the glove!" Kusajishi protested, showing me her hand. She was indeed wearing a red glove with a skull symbol on it.

"What is that?"

"Gokon Tekkō, it's used to remove a soul from its body," Zaraki explained. "Now we can leave."

He turned and drew his blade—a ragged thing that Chizuki winced at the sight of—and opened up the Shinigami gate. Bright light poured out of it, and she saw small flitting silhouettes within.

"Keep close, and follow the Jigokuchō," said Zaraki, stepping through the pair of shogi doors. Chizuki hopped in after him, eyeing the fluttering black butterflies with some curiosity. This time, she wasn't magically transported to some dubious tunnel, and she concluded that the butterflies must have something to do with it.

 _Follow the butterflies,_ she couldn't help but snort in her head. It sounded ridiculous.

* * *

Chizuki was led through streets of traditional buildings, with a cheerful Kusajichi making random commentary along the way. Chizuki did not really pay attention to what the small Lieutenant was saying but was instead trying to get a measure on just how strong the Captain was. His reiatsu was a constant annoying buzz, like a charged thunder-cloud crackling with lightning, and every time she focused on it, it filled her senses with alarm bells. Not literal ones, but the sensation certainly felt like it should be accompanied by shrieking.

They stopped outside the Shinō Academy that Chizuki had first heard about from Ichimaru, several months ago. This was where they left her, handing her over to an unknown Shinigami who would lead her to the exam room. It wasn't time for the typical entrance exam, since it was a once-a-year event, but they made an exception for her by letting her get tested by herself due to her circumstances.

The exam room wasn't really a room, but a large courtyard. There was an examiner already waiting there.

"You're late," said the Shinigami curtly, much to Chizuki's alarm, because it was the kind of mistake no one liked to make for their first impression.

"She was brought here by Zaraki-taichō," said the Shinigami who had led her there. The examiner snorted, and it seemed like Zaraki's name explained everything. Chizuki wondered if he was known for being tardy or… well, she hadn't been paying attention to their route there, and she had never come here before, so she wouldn't know, but it also seemed entirely possible that they had taken multiple detours before reaching the Academy.

"I'm Ōnabara Gengorō," said the examiner. "First, we'll be testing your reiatsu level—Catch!"

Ōnabara threw her a ball the size of a pomelo. Chizuki caught it. It was perfectly smooth, with some sort of symbol painted on it. "Now, feed the orb with reiryoku."

Feed? Chizuki wasn't sure what that meant, but she imagined it should be similar to how she charges her Zanpakutō with energy. She channelled her reiryoku through the orb the way she would if it were her weapon, expecting the same flickering flame-like glow to erupt from the surface of the orb.

But the orb was apparently a lot more reactive than her weapon—which she later realised made sense, because those taking these exams were likely newbies at spiritual arts, not Arrancars-turned-Shinigami like her—because the moment she fed the orb energy, there was a brilliant flare of silver light that practically exploded from the orb she was holding. She was so startled she would have dropped the thing if it hadn't felt like the orb was stuck to her hands.

Almost automatically, due to the instincts she retained from her time as a Hollow, Chizuki not only withdrew her reiryoku from the orb, but also hauled in her reiatsu even further, until it was no more like a small whisper—like an animal that played dead when encountering an unexpected predator.

There was a silence so complete it was almost loud. The bright silver flare that had erupted from the orb died immediately after it bloomed, leaving everyone blinking stars out of their eyes.

"What—" began one Shinigami, rubbed his eyes, then squinted at Chizuki who was still holding the orb. "Shit, you scared me."

Chizuki winced. "What did I do?"

"For a moment, I thought something had gone wrong and you had either been transported to another dimension or erased from existence," said the Shinigami with a scowl.

"Don't be dramatic," said Ōnabara, as he walked towards Chizuki to retrieve the orb from her.

"There was an explosion of energy, followed by her reiatsu disappearing… What was I supposed to think?" The first Shinigami demanded.

"Her reiatsu didn't disappear, it's still there," said Ōnabara, which made Chizuki give him a second glance over. Initially, she hadn't really paid attention to him, only noting that he seemed a little stern. Now, with his apparent ability to sense her even though she was suppressing her reiatsu to this extent, it seemed like he was not an ordinary Shinigami.

After putting away the orb, Ōnabara said to Chizuki, "There is no doubt you've passed the first test. You have a spiritual power of level five—if you were enrolling as a normal Academy student, it is almost a guarantee you would be put into the special accelerated class, though this would still partially depend on your other results."

"What's the minimum level one needs to get into that class?" Chizuki wondered.

"Level three," he said, giving her a strange look. "Most students enter the Academy with level-two reiryoku. Students with level-one reiryoku are typically rejected."

What he did not tell her was that very few students graduated with level-five reiryoku, so enrolling with that level of reiryoku was practically unheard of.

"Next, we will test your speed. You will have to run one lap around this courtyard." Ōnabara said instead. "While unnecessary, you are highly encouraged to try channelling reiryoku to your feet and use it to enhance your speed."

Then, he gestured for the other Shinigami to demonstrate. The Shinigami used their Shinigami version of sonído, which Chizuki still did not know the name of, his movements just a flicker as he ran one lap around the courtyard.

Ōnabara then took out a device from inside his sleeve and stretched out one section of it like a measuring tape before putting it on the ground. "Your turn. You'll have to run over this ribbon for it to record your time. Start whenever you're ready."

Chizuki raised both eyebrows as she stared at the strange device. A measuring tape that measured time? Just when she thought that Soul Society seemed backwards... Well, apparently the style of architecture did not match their technology. And Las Noche did not have a single time-keeping device—not even an hourglass, despite all the sand they had.

She huffed wryly, then decided to think about requesting Aizen or Ichimaru to do something about that in the future… If she ever got to return to Hueco Mundo. But for now, she had a test to ace. Chizuki breathed in deeply and grinned.

One step—in. Another step—out.

"There," she said, landing lightly just beyond the measuring tape. If there was one thing she loved about being a Shinigami, it was that their version of sonído was that completely silent. Sonído was naturally noisy, the volume of sound that accompanied it usually corresponding to the amount of power put into the technique. Some Arrancars like her could move with a quiet static sound, while others had to settle for loud explosions of sound for the same speed and distance. But Shinigami? The loudest she had ever heard was a soft rustle that was most likely just the sound of their uniform in the wind.

Ōnabara blinked, picked up the measuring device, stared at it and blinked again.

"Are you sure this is your first time with the spiritual arts?"

Chizuki couldn't very well say that she had been an Arrancar prior to her current venture into Shinigami business, so she merely smiled sheepishly and said nothing.

The examiner sighed, "While your shunpō is not the best I've seen, it's certainly faster than the average Shinigami. How are your fighting abilities?"

"I've tried learning karate before, but that was a while back, and only for a bit," said Chizuki, hiding crossed fingers in her sleeves.

"How long ago?" Ōnabara asked.

"Two years? I started when I was around nine or ten and stopped when I was around eleven."

"You know," Ōnabara commented. "I almost forgot you're human, until you tell me you're thirteen."

"Don't I look thirteen?" Chizuki asked.

"Most souls that look your age are at least a hundred years old," said Ōnabara. "Souls age differently without a physical body."

That made her wonder how old the Captain Commander really was, considering how old he looked. A thousand years old, perhaps? Or could he be younger, if stress affected a soul's look the same way it affects a human's look, since being Captain Commander couldn't be an easy job?

"Well, your last test will be a spar with me," said Ōnabara, interrupting her musing. "Typically, students are only required to last more than ten seconds against a senior student to pass, but in your case, the Captain Commander has required you to last for thirty seconds or more against me."

Chizuki eyed the Shinigami a third time. She'd never sparred against a Shinigami before, though in hindsight, she probably could've gotten Ichimaru to agree to spar or two if she tried. She didn't know why she never thought of it—oh wait, it was because no matter how nice Ichimaru seemed to treat her, she still had no guarantee he wouldn't 'accidentally' stab her somewhere lethal in a spar.

"No weapons, just hand-to-hand combat," said Ōnabara before she could ask, which was good, because it meant that she wouldn't get stabbed if he were indeed better at fighting than she was—she doubted it, since she was Segunda Espada and she should be able to go up against any Shinigami except perhaps the Captains—but she couldn't get a good measure of his spiritual power for it seemed like pesquisa didn't quite work the same when she was in Shinigami-mode. (On the other hand, if he did indeed overpower her, a broken rib wasn't going to be any more pleasant than a stab).

"Alright," said Chizuki, tying up her braids into a bow at the back of her head, before flicking her sleeves—they were too long and too big which meant she had to do something about it one day—and lowered herself into a crouch. The two Shinigami stared at her position, before Ōnabara also slipped into his own battle-ready stance. Then, the other Shinigami did a countdown from three.

"—Two. One. Begin!"

Chizuki sprang out from her crouch, flipping herself backwards as Ōnabara dashed towards her in a sudden lunge. When he kicked out a leg, she leaped and twisted, landing behind him. The Shinigami turned, took a step and swung his fist which she ducked under. She placed her hands on the floor and launched herself around him and aimed a kick at his side. The Shinigami dodged her kick and countered with a tackle which she rolled away from.

How long is thirty seconds? She wondered, as she considered attempting to defeat him instead of avoiding his attacks, because just dodging would get boring fast. He seemed to be slightly slower than her, but she also didn't know if he was holding back… Or she could just find that out first, she realised, as she raised an arm to block his next swing.

Oh, she thought to herself, feeling the power in the strike, and was glad her skin was strengthened with reiryoku—a result of imitating her hierro after feeling too soft and vulnerable without it, something she did not realise she could feel until it was gone—because that hit was likely to bruise real bad if she hadn't. But as it was, she realised it didn't matter if he was still holding back. She was good at taking advantage of people underestimating her abilities after all.

Half a second later, she had grabbed Ōnabara's wrist, twisted around, flipped him over her shoulder and threw him into a pillar at the edge of the courtyard. There was a big crash and for a moment, Chizuki was worried she'd miscalculated. Then the Shinigami got back up, revealing a crack in the pillar behind him, but he didn't seem to be harmed much.

Ōnabara rubbed his back, frowned at her, then glanced at the other Shinigami who was openly gaping at the both of them.

"Fourteen seconds," said the Shinigami, and Ōnabara turned back to her.

"You're the first student to defeat an instructor before enrolling into the Academy," he said.

Chizuki chuckled sheepishly, "You were holding back, weren't you?"

"So were you," Ōnabara observed. To the other Shinigami, he said, "Bring her to Sou-taichō, tell him she has passed the requirements."

* * *

 **That's all for now! Thanks for reading! Reviews and comments are always welcome.**

 **Next chapter is expected to be finished by 25th June.**


	14. AUTHOR'S NOTE

Apologies to those who thought this was a new chapter.

So, due to the prompting of a recent guest review, it occured to me I really should tell you guys that I am not abandoning this yet. I'm just kind of stuck right now (yes, stuck, even though it is a 'rewrite' of an old story), but I **swear** I'll upload a new chapter by the Lunar New Year, okay? I'm really aiming for next month, but considering my track record, don't get your hopes up for that.

Again, sorry for making you guys wait. Thanks for reading and reviewing so far, your support _is_ appreciated.

See you again soon, hopefully.

\- TEJ

P.S. I will be deleting this post and replace it with the next chapter when I finish writing it.


	15. XIV: Through the Looking Glass

**Hi, so it's been a really long while. Sorry for the wait! Here's the next chapter.**

 **Hope you guys will enjoy it! Have a Happy Lunar New Year!**

 **Disclaimer/Warnings: (No additions, see first chapter)**

* * *

Chapter 14: Through the Looking Glass

* * *

 _"The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But it's still on the list."_

* * *

After meeting the Captain Commander again, Chizuki was brought back to the Academy to get her measurements for her Academy uniform—a set of white kosode with red designs, white undershirt and red hakama—before she was led away to meet her new teachers.

Hakuda would be taught by Komamura Sajin, an armoured Captain complete with a helmet, which reminded her somewhat of Aaroneiro. Komamura was possibly more intimidating than Zaraki, since she couldn't see his face, and he was _twice her height_. Kuchiki Byakuya—another Captain, this one with a face as cold as Ulquiorra's—would be teaching her both Kidō and Hohō. Spiritual Basics, a combination of Shinigami history, theory and culture, would be taught by Hitsugaya Toshiro, the youngest Captain around.

(But considering what Ōnabara told her about the aging of souls, she wouldn't be surprised if both the young Captain as well as Zaraki's Lieutenant were older than her by a couple of decades. This then suddenly made her wonder how old her fellow Arrancars were… and if there were any other Shinigami, student or official alike, who were younger than her).

Hitsugaya would also be teaching her Zanjutsu along with Zaraki and his third seat, Madarame Ikkaku, with Zaraki and Madarame covering the purely physical part—kendo and other weapon-wielding techniques—and Hitsugaya covering the more spiritual part i.e. Zanpakutō communication/meditation, bonding/relationship, shikai etc.

When Chizuki returned to her apartment after everything was over, it suddenly occurred she had just made a serious mistake, and to think she had just gone with the flow without realising what she was doing until now! She was certain her exile from Hueco Mundo was temporary, except now that she was going to be a _Shinigami_ of all things.

(What if they found out she was actually a Hollow? Would they kill her?)

It felt like betrayal. Was it betrayal? Shinigami were the enemies of Hollows, after all, and she never really cared for them. In fact, she was aware that she still _thought_ like a Hollow sometimes, even when wearing the shihakusho. And yet, she had somehow ended up with Shinigami Captains who were going to train her to actually become one of them.

Oh, hell, if she knew this was going to happen, she really wouldn't have impulsively followed that Shinigami-in-charge through that Gate. Perhaps then things would be less complicated now.

* * *

Inevitably, Chizuki's daily schedule became a lot more packed and hectic. In the day, she would go to school, then return home to complete her homework. She was given only two hours to complete her assignments for school before she had to scram to Soul Society for her Shinigami lessons. As for sleep? She could only get a measly five to six hours before she would have to get up for school again. The only bright side was that while she was in Soul Society, her human body could be considered as resting, so this arrangement wouldn't affect her physical health much.

As for her mental state? Sometimes, she struggled even with the simplest of algebra. It wasn't surprising, considering how just her very first lesson in Soul Society had landed her in the Fourth Division.

It was Zanjutsu with Zaraki. The Captain had all the bloodthirst of Nnoitra and the destructive strength and force of Jaegerjaquez but a lot more skill and experience than the both of them put together.

The first thing he did when Chizuki arrived at the training grounds was to unsheathe his sword and charge at her without any warning. She barely had any time to dodge, much less draw her own Zanpakutō. Chizuki had no choice but to retreat with a (probably) overpowered burst of shunpō to buy herself more time because the crazy Shinigami was surprisingly fast even with his size.

When she finally pulled out the sword from its sheath behind her—the damn thing was too long for her arms to draw out smoothly—Zaraki was almost upon her again, and she could duck down into a roll to avoid getting beheaded.

(Again, she wondered why she signed up for this. It was only her first lesson, and her teacher was trying to _kill_ her.)

She didn't know if he was holding back, if he'd stop his sword in time if she couldn't dodge fast enough, but she did know—from the mad glint in his visible eye to the maniacal grin he wore and the sheer amount of reiatsu rolling off him, every bit focused on her with such energy—that if he _wasn't_ trying to kill her, she didn't want to know what he was like trying to kill someone.

The only one she'd fought like that had been Nnoitra—even Baraggan's attempts to subdue her in the beginning were feeble in comparison. With Baraggan, he'd just wanted to show her he was superior. Jaegerjaquez too, his fights were always about beating her, becoming stronger than her. Nnoitra was the only one who wanted to erase her existence entirely off the surface of the sandy desert.

 _Zaraki_ , Chizuki mused. _Would fit right in with all the other Arrancars. All he needs is a Hollow mask and hole._

Glancing up to the rooftop where Kusajishi was sitting, she figured the Lieutenant would fit in too, with her ridiculous pink hair and a bright and innocent smile in the face of bloodlust and killing intent. She'd be to Zaraki what Lilynette was to Starrk.

"Oi, you can still daydream at a time like this?" Zaraki crowed. Chizuki noted that he did not seem offended at her wandering attention, though he did gleefully take it as a sign to crank it up a notch.

And she had only just gotten used to the current pace.

The next moment, she found herself spinning head down and face first in a wall. By some absurd miracle, though the wall had fractured and collapsed under her, her nose was the only thing bruised in the whole thing. Either Soul Society's architects needed a lesson on how to build stronger walls from Las Noche's Hollows, or her 'hierro' was too strong.

"Not bad for a fry like you," Zaraki commented. Chizuki did not wait for him to take another step before she launched herself in the air and reinforced her sword with reiryoku.

Their swords met with a ringing vibration that travelled down the length of her blade and up her arm and hurt her ears from within her bones.

"What is wrong with your sword?" Chizuki demanded. No blade she had encountered had ever made such an unholy screeching when drawn against another blade. But then most blades she'd seen were in a better state than Zaraki's. His had a chipped and worn edge that made Chizuki question the rules of the spirit because prior to meeting Zaraki, she had always assumed that Zanpakutō didn't need maintenance.

"Nothing's wrong with it!" Zaraki replied, his grin a Garganta-like crack in his face as the both of them sprung back.

Then, as if proving his point, he brought his sword swinging back down with a wave of energy that Chizuki did not have time to dodge.

The next thing she knew, she was staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling, blinking at the warm smiling face of a woman with thick dark hair. For reasons unknown to her, she thought she could feel cold invisible fingers wrapping around her neck and shuddered—this was one woman she was going to avoid pissing off.

"Hello, Yoruka-san, don't be alarmed," said the woman with a kind smile, and despite the wariness Chizuki felt, the smile seemed genuine. "I'm Unohana Retsu, Captain of the Fourth Division. You're currently in our Relief Station."

"Relief station?" Chizuki asked, mentally taking note that this woman was a Captain—no wonder she felt dangerous.

"Medical facility," Unohana explained gently. "Fortunately, you only suffered minor burns. Against Kenpachi-taichō, you have fared better than most."

Chizuki merely sighed, "I wonder how much he was holding back." Internally, she cursed Zaraki because that was the first time she lost since becoming an Arrancar. And it was even more frustrating because Zaraki probably could have ended that fight even earlier, and while some part of her was trying to reassure herself that he was a Shinigami _Captain_ , another part of her was convinced that if she could use her Arrancar-form in that fight, she could have won.

She was slower, for one, when using shunpō as opposed to sonído. It wasn't that sonído was a superior technique because she honestly felt shunpō was a lot more useful considering how it _doesn't make a sound_ , but she just wasn't as used to shunpō as she was with sonído—it didn't feel as natural and effortless. Then there was the fact that she couldn't use that time-freezing technique of hers.

The unnamed time-freezing technique.

It was something that Chizuki was really curious about, but the Voice was not being very forthcoming about… well, anything at all. She did not know if she could still use the technique, since according to the Voice, her sword, having been a Shinigami Zanpakutō the whole time, was still the same as before, and the technique seemed related to the sword as opposed to being related to her Hollow powers… So, on hindsight, the technique was likely a Shinigami one.

Unfortunately, Chizuki didn't know how much Soul Society knew about the going-ons in Las Noche, since she still didn't know what Aizen was doing in Hueco Mundo aside from amassing an advanced-Hollow army which really did not seem like the kind of thing Shinigami should be doing… but one never knew. In any case, Chizuki had every intention of hiding her Hollow-self, which meant that she could not afford to reveal anything that could be traced back to Sangre.

It was quite an irony—the Shinigami-related technique was something Sangre the Arrancar was known to have, while Chizuki the Shinigami could not use it.

"You've only just started your training, after all," Unohana's light voice drew her attention back to the present situation. "It's only natural to lose against the Eleventh Division Captain."

Chizuki, of course, knew that Zaraki was a _Captain_. He wouldn't be one if he could just be beaten by anyone. And she wasn't even part of the Gotei 13 yet. There was absolutely no reason for her to be able to go against him.

"I'll beat him," she said to Unohana. "Someday."

Jaegerjaquez would be disappointed, she was sure, if he were to hear that she'd lost against a Shinigami. And so would Aizen… But Chizuki couldn't really bring herself to care about _him_.

Unohana merely smiled in response, deciding not to tell the child before her that the fact that she had not yet bled fighting with Zaraki Kenpachi was a remarkable feat... And a testament to her spiritual prowess.

* * *

Chizuki was thankful when she found out her next lesson was going to be Spiritual Basics, because she was still aching from her fight with Zaraki and did not want to find out what the other physical lessons—Hakuda and Hohō—were going to be like.

Hitsugaya Toshiro was… actually smaller-sized than her. That was the first thing she noticed. The second thing she noticed was that he was more serious than she expected, considering that he looked like he could be a few years younger than her. She resisted the urge to ask him how old he was, if only because she thought she might get a headache if she were to find out that the 'youngest' Captain were, say, a hundred years older than her.

Shinigami Basics turned out to be extremely dry.

Somehow, Chizuki expected it to be fun to learn, since their first lesson was _supernatural_ history after all, but one hour later, she found herself blinking dazedly the same way she did in history class at school.

Two hours later, Chizuki was tempted to find Kusajishi. She hardly knew anyone in Soul Society, but she figured that if anyone had anything fun to do, it would be that pink-haired Lieutenant. At least her behaviour and personality seemed to match her appearance of a small kid… Unlike a certain Captain. The only problem was that this Lieutenant appeared to be semi-permanently stuck to Zaraki… who Chizuki really did not want to meet again.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how one looked at it, an unknown Shinigami turned up not long after her Spiritual Basics lesson to bring her back to the Human world. The next night, she found out that her lessons had been switched around—Kidō and Hohō lessons was going to take place _before_ her Zanjutsu class, rather than after Spiritual Basics, and they would switch with Hakuda lessons on alternate days.

Apparently, the Shinigami realised what a bad idea it was to plan anything remotely strenuous for her after Zaraki's had a round with her.

* * *

Hohō, it appeared, was all about movement. There was nothing much for Chizuki to really learn from the lesson. Kuchiki evidently thought the same, because after he made her complete a set of exercises, he merely told her to keep practicing.

"You're fast for a beginner," he said, sounding like he was holding back a sigh. "In fact, I believe you're faster than many seated Shinigami."

Chizuki beamed. She still wasn't as fast as when she did sonído, because that came more instinctively and naturally than shunpo, but she was sure she could train until they were on par. She had to, especially now that she had to rely on her own speed rather than her time-freezing technique.

"I will teach you _Utsusemi_ when you can complete those exercises in ten seconds," Kuchiki contiuned. From what Chizuki understood, Utsusemi was a special technique that required extremely fast shunpō. Her timing for the set of exercises was sixteen seconds at the moment, which was still not fast enough for Kuchiki, despite the fact that she was already above average in speed.

They moved on to Kidō right after that.

Kidō, Chizuki found, was complicated enough to be considered a science. There was theory and there was practice, but instead of equations, it had words, using _kotodama_ to form spells that guided the use of reiryoku. Some Kidō spells even seemed to require poetry-like incantations.

It was very much a pain to learn, and Chizuki spent most of her first lesson copying spells and their incantations on paper as a form of memorisation. The more advanced stuff (which _did_ involve theorems and formulas and equations) such as how to modify, combine or create new spells, would come later, as it wasn't something most Shinigami bothered to learn anyway. It was considered adequate to know how to perform the common ones well, and perhaps learn how to cast the more complicated ones with a shorter incantation or no incantation at all if one were feeling ambitious.

Don't get her wrong—Chizuki felt that learning how to change or craft Kidō spells was really cool, especially if she could find a way to make them easier for her to use. But right now, there were way too many words for her to remember, and she had to get past this stage before she could even think about doing anything more fun.

* * *

Zaraki was a monster.

During their second match, Chizuki lasted a proud one minute against the Shinigami who had decided to skip warm-ups before she found herself in the 4th Division again.

"You're doing fine for a beginner," Unohana reassured her. "You'll do a lot better once you learn how to release your Zanpakutō."

"Release?" Chizuki repeated, thinking of Resurrección.

Unohana merely smiled. "You should ask Hitsugaya-taichō, since he should be covering Zanjutsu theory with you."

So Chizuki headed off to find Hitsugaya after Unohana declared her fit to leave the 4th Division. Fortunately, despite the rather embarrassing losses she had suffered, she had yet to be injured badly enough for Unohana to detain her for long.

* * *

Chizuki did not know her Resurrección. She did not know what it looked like, what abilities she had, _hell_ , she didn't even know the name of her Resurreción, let alone the command for it.

Chizuki's sword was a Shinigami's Zanpakutō, had been a Shinigami's Zanpakutō from the moment she drew it out of her own Hollow hole.

Did Aizen know?

Did that Shinigami know something went wrong when he turned her into an Arrancar? Did he accidentally convert part of her into a Shinigami? By artificially enhancing the Arrancar transformation to produce stronger Arrancars than naturally possible, did he take a step too far? Crossed some divide he hadn't intended to cross?

Or was it on purpose?

Could it be on purpose? After all, he had said nothing, commented nothing, when she changed the appearance of her Zanpakutō right in front of him that day.

(Well, not literally _right in front_ of him, since she had been behind him at that time. But he must have noticed that he'd seen her with a sword, before she caught up with him carrying a halberd instead).

* * *

"How do I release my Zanpakutō?" Chizuki asked Hitsugaya.

The young Captain frowned at her. "Your Zanpakutō spirit has communicated with you, I heard?"

Chizuki nodded, though the Voice has not spoken for quite some time now.

"Releasing one's Zanpakutō requires the aid of the Zanpakutō spirit. The releasing itself consists of the command and the name. Every Zanpakutō has its own name and release command. However, this you will have to discover yourself."

Hitsugaya went on to explain that the first step is usually to establish a connection between the wielder and the spirit, but Chizuki already had that connection. The second step would then be to enter their own inner world through _jinzen_ , before obtaining acknowledgement from their own Zanpakutō spirit. A wielder cannot access any ability or power that a Zanpakutō deems them unworthy for. Only by proving themselves can a wielder learn the name of their Zanpakutō and the command to release them.

Chizuki recalled how she had transformed from an Arrancar into a Shinigami a few months ago (" _Brillar, Kagerō_ "). And even earlier than that, in the depths of Las Noche, changing the appearance of her Zanpakutō with the Meisai technique taught by the Voice (" _Hikaru, Kagerō_ ").

"Kagerō" had to be the name of the Voice—'Zanpakutō spirit' was what the Shinigami had called it. Then "Brillar", whatever it meant, was probably the release command? But no, it couldn't be. After all, her halberd-shaped Zanpakutō had merely returned to the form of a sword after she said that, rather than take on a new form as it should after being released.

The next day, Chizuki finally decided to drop by a bookshop and obtain a Spanish to Japanese dictionary. She flipped right to the 'B' section and found the word she was looking for.

[[ Brillar, ( _v_ ): 輝く; 際だつ; 光る; 光らせる; かすかに光る; きらりと光る; ひらめく ]]

 _Does it not mean the same thing as the other command then?_ Chizuki was incredulous. One command was in Spanish, the other was Japanese, but the meaning was the same, and it seemed like the only function was to change the appearance of her Zanpakutō?

Laughter, bright and sharp, resounded at the back of her head, startling her into dropping the dictionary.

 _ **Do you think it insignificant? Do you know how many Zanpakutō can change the appearance of their sealed form like us? Those who are not worthy may hide their true forms from their wielders. Some are capable of weaving illusions. But**_ **we** _ **can change form on command, between a sword and a halberd, a close-ranged weapon and a long-ranged weapon. And you would mock us for it? Why—**_

 _I get it. I get it,_ Chizuki hastily said, raising a mental white flag. She had a feeling that this Voice could go on for an hour if she were to let it. Though…

 _Who are you?_ This Voice sounded exactly the same as the one she was more familiar with, but the personality seemed wildly different.

The Voice laughed again and Chizuki wondered if it was normal to get chills from listening to the sound of one's own Zanpakutō.

 _ **My name is not one so easily given, dear child. However, you are quite right. I am not my sister, who would have left you to flounder by yourself.**_

Chizuki noted that the Voice sounded as though she should praise and thank her at this point in time for her generosity. As if the Voice had been any more helpful than her… sister(?)

(… Zanpakutō could have siblings?)

* * *

Komamura Sajin was an interesting individual. He was huge, but he didn't have the same kind of wild energy as Zaraki. In fact, when Chizuki first met him, his reiatsu was so restrained that she would not have noticed the sheer magnitude of it, hidden so well as it was, if not for the fact that her own body subconsciously reacted with instinct. Her muscles tensed, her senses went on alert.

Despite his quiet words and gentle demeanour that made her think of peaceful whales and large solemn deer, something else whispered into her blood and bones: _Carnivore. Predator. Danger._

When Komamura engaged her in a spar—an actual spar, without the madness, killing-intent and bloodlust of Zaraki—she got a taste of his strength. It was perhaps on the same level of Baraggan. Still less than Zaraki's by her estimation, but she doubted either of them had gone all out against her—a puny student—so she couldn't be sure.

"You've got potential," said Komamura after their spar. Chizuki had to swallow another loss, much to her chagrin. She had lasted longer against Komamura than she had against Zaraki, but had still been taken by surprise when he had suddenly displayed such agility uncommon for someone with his bulk.

Komamura was someone of little words, so he left shortly after he gave her some exercises to improve her strength and speed. What advice he had to give was mostly done during the spar itself, correcting her as they fought.

It was quite different from Zaraki's method, which basically involved going straight for the kill and beating her so thoroughly that she would end up in the Fourth Division each time. Chizuki didn't think the madman had ever said anything useful to her during their fights—most of the time, when he did open his mouth, it was either to taunt her or to praise her for things like being able to hear those bloody annoying bells he wore.

(Apparently, those bells could only be heard by people with reiatsu that was concentrated enough, a high standard that could typically be met only by someone with great spiritual power when focusing their reiatsu in a fight… a standard that she automatically met because she was one, a being with great spiritual power, and two, there was a part of her that was always instinctively ready for a fight, something ingrained into her from her time as a Hollow… and considering that after a whole week of interaction with Shinigami, she still felt like a Hollow stranded in the middle of a crowd of Shinigami, her guard were constantly high up… which meant that she heard those damn bells every time Zaraki was in the vicinity.)

(She would in truth be happier if she could not hear the bells, as the bells sounded less like bells and more like a headache, but she could never relax enough in the presence of so many Shinigami to be able to become deaf to the ringing the way normal Shinigami were.)

* * *

 **So, Chizuki has started her lessons in Soul Society. Next up will probably be a 'field trip' and hopefully some screen time for other characters.**

 **Chapter 15 will likely only be finished in September. Apologies for that.**

 **Feel free to leave a review or pm me about anything though.**


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